


Your Colors

by Tasharii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, POV Third Person, Past Abuse, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:03:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 149,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasharii/pseuds/Tasharii
Summary: Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him.Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.





	1. Charcoal Smudges

**Author's Note:**

> I was hoping for this to be a oneshot, but it got out of hand very quickly, and became a full, multi-chapter fic. This is all for writingcroissant's 2k challenge on Tumblr. I picked the Artist AU, and ran with it.  
> This is my first fanfiction ever, so please let me know what you think. I’ll update the warnings with every chapter if something changes.  
> I create banners for each of my chapters and post them with the chapter on Tumblr.  
> [See it here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/177283666798/your-colors-ch1)

A cool draft of air pricked goosebumps up across her skin, and she suppressed the urge to shiver. One wrong movement would break her pose. The floral duvet under her was soft, but her knees were starting to ache from holding the position for so long. Her hands were curled against the tops of her thighs, as if she just rose up to kneel on her bed. Y/N’s head was tilted just a little, her hair pulled over one shoulder, facial expression calm. It was hard to stay that way, though. She could feel his eyes on her like blinding sunshine.

The lighting was controlled by mismatched lamps, keeping it consistent and gentle, almost intimate. Three lights were situated around her bed. One by the headboard behind her, another standalone closer, above her head to the left, and the last was further away on a chair in front of her. All the ceiling lights were switched off, and the windows were covered. It was just enough light to keep her bedroom area illuminated, but the rest of the apartment was coated in inky shadows.

Even with the heat on high, the loose, sheer long sleeve blouse she wore wasn’t quite warm enough. Goosebumps crawled up her bare thighs, disappearing underneath her jean shorts. Y/N’s studio apartment always ran on the edge of nippy. The stained tan carpet couldn’t block out the chill. The mass of tall windows on her back wall, across from the door, loved to let the fall air creep in. At least the windows gave a beautiful view of New York’s sparkling skyline. Being on the 14th floor did have some perks.

“You’re frowning again.” His voice broke through her train of thought. It made her shoulders tense up to her ears before she forced them back down. Subtly she flexed her fingers in and out of fists, trying to shake the anxiety. “Do you need a break?”

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding “No, I’m alright.” She peaked at him from just within her peripheral vision. He was drawing her from a 3-quarter view, a little lower rather than straight on. A chair had been pulled over from her living-room area, and he lounged back in it. One foot propped up on a stool; other on his knee. His large sketchpad rested on his lap, and tucked up close to his face. Pale blue eyes focused on her with such intensity she felt another flush crawl from her chest down to her toes and up to her ears. This was one part of life drawing that she could never quite get used to.

His eyes drifted over her body, taking in every single detail. First trailing across the waves in her hair, then he paused on her lips, passed down to her torso, arms, legs, and lastly he focused on the paper. Bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth, he scraped against the page in small fluid strokes. The rasping of charcoal eased some of the heat that sparked across her skin. Then he looked up again, loose strands of hair falling across his forehead.

Bucky met her eyes for a couple seconds. Her heartbeat picked up again at being caught staring. Then he dropped his charcoal back down into its open case on the end table beside his chair. He let his socked feet down. Placed his sketchpad on the stool and rubbed at the black smudges on his fingers “I think I’m done anyway. I wanna get a drink real quick, then I’ll pose for you.” He wiped the smudges on his jeans as he stood up.

 _‘Oh thank god’_ Y/N thought, then fell back onto her butt, rolling into a sitting position. Stretching her arms above her head, she cracked her back. As she rolled her stiff joints, she listened for Bucky’s footsteps. The light flicked on for her corned off kitchen area. It was all the way on the other side of the apartment, but she heard the fridge door open without one single footstep. He was so damn quiet. Like a ghost. Maybe it was just because of the carpet.

“Can you get me a coke?” She called, scooting to sit on the edge of the bed and then standing. Tingles trailed down her legs, feet asleep, and she awkwardly shook them off. With a couple bouncing steps she went over to the stool. Y/N didn’t dare touch it, didn’t want to smear any of his strokes. Instead, she just moved over so she could peer down at his latest masterpiece.

It had taken him a little over 30 minutes to draw her. Bucky always, somehow, made her look far more beautiful than any mirror had ever done for her. Her hair looked wavy and graceful as it framed her face, and she appeared to be deep in thought. As if she was captured in the moment between deciding to do something and moving into action. Y/N wished she could say that he drew her wrong, made her look like someone else. A girl far more elegant and pretty than her, but it would be an insult to his skill. Bucky captured her truer to herself than anyone else in the world. It was like he saw inside of her. Saw what she was made of and brought it to the surface.

Somehow, he did it every single time.

This was the fourth time he had been over for an art homework session. Probably drawn her upwards of thirty times now between all the impression sketches, and various timed drawings. Always in charcoal. Always with beautiful accuracy.

“What do you think?” Y/N felt something cold and damp brush her arm. She jumped a little bit and whipped around to glare at Bucky for spooking her. He was standing a good foot away, but his arm had stretched out to offer her the canned soda.

Snatching the drink from him, she took a couple calming breaths, and ignored his small smirk “I think this one’s your best so far. You’re getting better with the lighting.”

Now that she was aware of him, he took another step closer. Unconsciously, his right arm brushed hers as he tilted his head, eyeing the drawing critically “Still can’t get your damn nose right.”

“Got a problem with it?” She teased, sipping on her drink and studying the illustration. Honestly, she didn’t notice anything wrong with it. Her 2D nose looked about as accurate as the rest of her. Curling her bare toes into the carpet, she noticed the feeling had finally come back to them.

Bucky glanced up at her and scowled accusingly “Ya, it’s disproportionate to your face.” The light from the lamp on the chair accented his pout, deepening the dimple under his lip.

Y/N couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that came out of her. It was such an absurd, random comment. Still, she pressed her lips and eyebrows down. Tried to be offended. After all, he was insulting her “Excuse me. I think my nose is the best part of my face! You’re the one with a butt chin!” Her voice trembled over her own words. Then she giggled a little harder as his sulking deepened and he rubbed at his chin, shaking his head.

“Now who’s being rude?” His pout finally lifted to a small smile, and he brought his coke to his mouth, swallowing. “I think next time I want you laying on the bed. Think you can let your head hang upside down for 30 minutes?” He caught her gaze, eyebrows raised. She tried to ignore him saying anything about laying on a bed. There was a mischievous spark in his eye that made her stomach flip.

“If I pass out it’s your fault.” She warned, jabbing a finger at him threateningly. He smiled a smidge more at her before backing up and going to sit his drink down on her desk. Every smile he gave her felt like a surprise, and she couldn’t quite believe how much had changed in such a short period of time.

Things were getting easier with him. It had taken a good two weeks, seeing each other twice a week in their mutual art class, and then twice outside of class to work on the homework. Y/N knew he would be tough. She could tell that from ‘Hello’. Just hadn’t properly estimated how difficult.

In the beginning, he barely talked beyond adjustments to her pose, and comments on her anatomical errors. Never rudely. Definitely blunt, but his voice was soft, and he helped her after critiquing her. She had thought he was irritated every time he came to her apartment to work. Thought she annoyed him whenever she sat next to him in class. It made her anxiety relentlessly torment her like the devil it was.

Last Friday, though, she finally started to pick up on his dry humor. It was only small comments here and there. Little quips about the poses she made him do, or her obnoxiously loud neighbors. When she fed into it, he made more. Now he was beginning to smile easier. She eventually asked him about his brooding, while sketching him sitting in a chair. Bucky had cracked up. A full body laugh that took up her entire apartment. Between snorts he explained that his friends said he had a ‘killer resting bitch face’. It was one of their inside jokes. He was sorry if he gave her the wrong idea. All his waving hands, gesturing as he spoke, completely ruined her sketch. There was no getting him back into the same position. It was worth it.

These days, she wondered why she ever thought he was scary.

“Got any plans for Halloween?” Y/N asked, turning her drink in her hands. The holiday fell on a Wednesday this year, so most parties were scheduled the Saturday after. That was only a week away.

Bucky smeared the condensation of his can across his right fingers, rubbing at the leftover charcoal dust. The small of his back leaned against her desk as he thought about it. Charcoal had managed to get all the way down to his wrist. His thumb brushed over his fingertips and then he rubbed them again on his jeans. There were smudged stains on the faded blue now, next to his side pocket. He didn’t seem to care.

She tried to stop staring, looking back down at his drawing right as he glanced back up to answer. “Probably gonna go to my friend’s party. Maybe scare the kids that dare ring his doorbell.” He gave a wicked smirk. Then clapped his hands together, rubbing them conspiratorially. The sound was muted by his glove and had a dull ring from the metal underneath.

“Like you need to give more poor people nightmares from your ugly mug.” She teased. Well that answered her question. She thought maybe she could invite him to go with her and her friends to club Hydra. Obviously, he would be spending time with his friends. Friends she didn’t have any idea about.

“Oh ha ha.” Bucky rolled his eyes with exaggerated, sarcastic laughter. “So! Where do you want me and my ugly mug?” He asked, arms spread wide in mock invitation.

“Don’t pout. At least you don’t have to buy a costume.” Y/N continued. He didn’t even bless her with a response. Just pinned his grey eyes at her a bit more.

Slowly, she walked over to sit her own drink down beside his, lips pressed together. Peering around the room, she crossed her arms in thought. Finally, she nodded her chin towards the window sill. It was her middle, largest window. The one that opened to her fire escape. The sill doubled as a seat and had a couple cushions already laid out on it.

“Open the blinds and lean against it.” It was getting to be later afternoon, so the light should be pouring in the window without the blinds blocking it. As he pushed off from the desk, Bucky knocked his shoulder playfully against hers. She hesitated back for just a second, watching him stroll easily across her apartment. Honestly, she hadn’t realized that he never touched her before until he started to. It wasn’t like he touched her all the time now, but something told her it was significant that he did at all.

With a shake of her head, Y/N followed Bucky over to the window and let him push aside the pale blue curtains. Then he tugged the blinds up, turned and rested back against the window, arms crossed. He didn’t completely sit down onto the sill. Instead he sat on the very edge, using his legs to support him. It wasn’t a very comfortable position, but it was visually dynamic.

“This good?” He tilted his head and studied her curiously. He was wearing a black hoodie, left hand covered with a glove. His hair was easily brushed back from his face, shorter on the sides. Stubble covered his cheeks, but he still had a boyish charm to him, even with the small smudges of rings under his stark blue eyes.

She knew what was under his glove. It wasn’t like Bucky insisted on hiding his metal arm, but he did go out of his way to keep it covered as much as possible. Sometimes in class he would shed his jacket, long sleeves underneath it, but then he would roll up the sleeves to wash his right hand. He would remove the glove to keep it from getting wet. Didn’t usually even flinch whenever anyone looked, surprised, but no one asked. Prosthetics were rare, but not unheard of considering the war. Metal prosthetics were rarer, only Stark Industries made them, and they were ungodly expensive.

However, in all the sessions they had drawing each other, she hadn’t drawn him without his arm covered in some way. He had drawn her in various stages of undress: dresses, skirts, shorts, jackets, and even a sports bra once. Y/N had a feeling that this would be what she would use for her final Figure Drawing project. If he just didn’t have his jacket on. Maybe she could finally capture the essence of him that she had missed every time.

“One second.” She stated quickly, stepping back and flitting around her apartment. First, she turned off all the lamps over near her bed. Then she walked around the wide bookshelf that separated her bed from the living-room area and turned off the kitchen light beyond that. There was enough light pouring in from the window for her to draw by. Plus, having only one light source made the shadows he created deeper.

Having all that done, she steeled herself, debating a moment longer. It wouldn’t hurt to ask would it? She picked at the edges of her sheer sleeves, they covered down to her fingers. Bucky tracked the movement with his eyes. He really did have artist habits. Sometimes she wondered if he ever missed anything. Any small detail.

“Do you think you could take off your hoodie?” She quickly asked, a little hesitantly. Just throw it out there. Despite the anxiety, she tried to be as casual about it as she could.

Bucky’s eyes widened just a fraction before he gave a smooth smile and furrowed his eyebrows “You trying to defile my honor?” He chuckled teasingly, giving her an obvious once-over, then tutted with a click of his tongue “I didn’t take you for that kinda girl!” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and reclined back a bit more. The light made pieces of his hair shine copper.

She scoffed “Oh you wish Barnes.” Then she shook her head, staring up at the high vaulted ceiling. Why did this difficult man had to be her muse?

“I just think the lighting and pose would look better without your dark ass jacket casting one big mass of shadows.” She jabbed a finger at it and stared at him stubbornly. She didn’t mention that his metallic arm would also look beautiful in the golden light of the sunset, but she figured he would come to that conclusion on his own.

“I’m wearing a tank top underneath this.” He stated, joking demeanor becoming subdued with his statement, voice softening. Bucky didn’t turn his gaze away from her. Slouched down like he was, she managed to stand at his height. Her bare toes were nearly touching his. The length of his stretched legs kept her a good arm’s length away. Bucky always seemed to have a bubble that he rarely let anyone in. People walked around him with a wide breadth. Y/N supposed he could be intimidating. Especially in moments like this. Where his eyes unwaveringly bore into hers, and he dropped his charming, dry humor. A joke wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“That’s fine by me.” She finally replied, clearing her throat from where it had become filled with sand. Honestly, she didn’t know Bucky all that well. They spent upwards of 10 hours a week together, working on the same class, bonding over art, but she still didn’t really know him. She knew he was a veteran, he was casually vague about that if the arm didn’t tip anyone off. Their art teacher, Ramsey, was also a veteran, and liked to talk about it with Bucky. Probably a sense of comradery. She knew his favorite medium was acrylic, and he worked at The Rosalie Bakery. That was about it, though, and all that stuff was pretty damn superficial.

As he kept his stare locked with hers for a few heartbeats longer than comfortable, she began to wonder if maybe she pushed too far. It was obvious he was a private guy. Maybe he was embarrassed about it. Maybe he didn’t want it captured forever down on paper. She was just about to back off when his right hand moved up to the zipper of his hoodie. Her eyes immediately tracked the movement. It rested below his chest, already partially down. The sound of the zipper broke the silence, louder than the clunking of her apartments central air.

“Alright, but good fucking luck drawing this hunk of metal. I swear shading it is gonna be a bitch for you.” Bucky groused, and she took a soft breath before smiling encouragingly with a flash of teeth.

“I think I can handle it.”

He tossed the jacket to the floor, and then rolled his shoulder a little. The wife beater didn’t hide much of anything. Y/N could see the thick jagged scars from where the metal ended, and his skin began. There was intricate paneling and the plates hissed a little as they shifted in response to him moving. His flesh fingers plucked the ends of the glove off, and then dropped it down on top of his jacket.

It only took two seconds for her trained eyes to devour every detail before she hurried to grab her sketchpad and standing easel. She wanted to draw him at eye level, just from the side closer to his metal arm. The light refracted, multicolored, across the silver. It was just as stunning as she thought it would be. “Can you just prop your left elbow up above your head? Ya like that. Now tilt your head towards me. Good. And relax.” She spoke quickly, already starting to block in shapes.

“Whatever you say Picasso.” Bucky rolled his eyes before relaxing his face, and he watched her draw.

Normally, she would tell him to look somewhere else. Maybe down, or up above her, but not this time. This time it was perfect that he was challenging her. Challenging the viewer. Daring them to look at him. Daring them to stare.

Y/N felt her heartbeat pick up, and she brushed the charcoal across her page, suddenly caught in a drawing fever. She could feel excitement sparking her fingers as she drew him. This was why she wanted him to be her partner.

When Ramsey told them that they would have a partner for the length of their class, she had panicked at first. Their partner was supposed to critic them, help them, and work their projects together. It was a lot to ask from someone, especially when most people in the class didn’t have a degree hanging on their performance. This was an extracurricular class for her, outside of her college, hosted by the Brooklyn Museum. It was meant for wanna-be-artists, but most of them weren’t being graded like her. At the end of the class their work would be hosted in an exhibit at the museum.

All her teachers would be coming to that show, and Ramsey was supposed to write weekly updates about her. Y/N didn’t like group projects to begin with. Most people just didn’t work well together, and she had high standards for herself. Besides, she only recognized a couple other people in the class from her college, but she didn’t truly know anyone.

As everyone started to pair off, being smart and probably taking the class with a friend, she glanced around the room. Twisted in her chair, observing as people laughed and started mulling over the syllabus together. She finally spotted him. He hadn’t moved from his drafting desk, hadn’t even looked up from his worn sketchbook. She noticed how people glanced at him, but then kept moving, looking for other options. He was beautiful. Intimidating. She wanted to draw him right then and there. It wasn’t anything new. Sometimes people just inspired her. Something about them made her itch to draw them. To capture their being onto a page.

So, she approached him. He slowly glanced up at her. Took in her position beside his desk with nothing else than a glare. Stubbornly not letting that deter her, she gave a small wave and the best smile she could muster under such uncomfortable circumstances “Hey I’m Y/N.”

“James.”

 

 

“You still have 20 minutes left. You can take your time.” Bucky chuckled, watching as her hand slowed for the first time since she started “I’m not going anywhere Y/N.”

It had taken the entire first week for her to make him laugh. Another week after that before the smiles came easier. The sad part was she had actively been trying. Of course, when he did laugh, she hadn’t tried. In the middle of rearranging the still life they were working with, she fumbled. She accidentally knocked her hip into the edge of her cheap end table when turning away. Managed to catch the flower vase, but at the cost of it spilling down the front of her shirt. At least it was on her, and not her camera. That same day, he had told her to call him Bucky instead of James.

He laughed a lot more since then.

Hearing her name made her fully give him her attention. Cars honked from far down below, and the shuffle of New York played like subdued background music. “You’ve got charcoal on your face.” He informed her. A smirk curled up one side of his lips, and his eyes danced in the fading auburn light behind him.

She wiped at her forehead, brushing back her hair. From the grin on his face, she probably only made it worse. She sent eye daggers at him “Shut up and get back to brooding.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to contain his smile. “Yes ma’am.” After that, she noticed that his shoulders were a little more relaxed. His breathing was deeper, and his gaze had softened. However, his eyes never stopped daring her to look.

 

***

 

Halloween was one of her favorite holidays. It was thrilling to get to pretend to be someone else. To have the opportunity to dress in whatever made her feel good without getting slut shamed for it. She had very few chances to act like a kid anymore, being in college, and having the adult responsibilities of a young woman living on her own. So, when her friends invited her to a Halloween party at the club Hydra she didn’t hesitate to agree. It wasn’t often that she drank, even less often that she partied.

The press of bodies made it difficult to get off the dance floor. She slowly weaved her way, slipping under arms and sliding through all the usual grinding. Her hair stuck to the nap of her neck, and she felt damp sweat on the small of her back. Leather was not a breathable fabric. It clung like a second jet black skin down her limbs and stretched across her breasts. As she stumbled, at last, out of the crowd, near the bar, she took in a muggy breath. The air tasted like various perfumes, and sweet smoke. Fog machines curled smoke around her feet and made the air hazy. Desperate, she unzipped her clingy jacket down a bit. Now she was showing an indecent amount of cleavage, only a pushup bra under the jacket, but at least it was cooler.

Time was drifting past 1 a.m., and she wanted to try to be home by 3. That way she could still be coherent when Bucky came over to work at 11. Multicolored strobe lights flashed overhead, giving everything a heady, surreal atmosphere. The music was so loud that she could feel it vibrating in her bones, across her heart. It mixed well with the slight buzz of alcohol making her skin tingle, and muscles loose. Her feet hurt from dancing so much, and she still had a throbbing bite mark on her neck. A gift from a guy dressed as a vampire who got a little too in character.

Finally, she made it into the bathroom, there wasn’t a line. The club was huge, and expensive. It managed to surprisingly be equipped with enough bathrooms to serve all its drunk, debauched guests. She leaned heavily against the porcelain sink, splashing some cool water onto the back of her neck. After a couple of calm breaths, she felt the last of the artificial fog leave her lungs. Peering up she stretched her neck to the side, checking to see if the vampire managed to bruise her. Thank god he didn’t.

Y/N’s makeup was smudged, making her sharp Black Widow look a little dirty. Her lipstick smeared around her mouth, and her smoky eyeliner ringed her bright eyes. Somehow, she got glitter across her cheekbones and chest. She hadn’t even worn glitter. Still, it managed to work with the leather, so she didn’t mind too much. Standing up straight, she dampened a paper towel and dabbed it under her eyes. Wanted to clean herself up just a little bit before she faced anyone again. Grabbing her lipstick from one of her many pockets she reapplied the scarlet, and then, satisfied, pulled out her phone.

Back facing the mirror, she leaned against the sink. Focused on her phone, she enjoyed the slight draft of cool air that dried the sweat on her chest. The music still crept in from outside, but it was the first minute in a solid 5 hours that she could hear her own thoughts.

First, she tried to call Gabby, who had drove them there. Gabby was always nailed to her phone and very reliable. It rang a few times, but eventually went to voicemail. Y/N left a quick message. Let her know that she wanted to head out soon, and to get back to her. They had agreed that they would stay no later than 1:30 a.m. at most. It was creeping towards that time.

Then she called Whitney, but the call was instantly rejected. She raised her eyebrows and hung up without leaving a message. Instead she went to text her. The buzzing of the florescent lights was starting to give her a headache. She jumped a little when a group of girls came into the bathroom, talking way too loudly. Probably still deaf from the base. The music followed in after them until the door swung closed again. Some remix of This Is Halloween. They barely glanced at her as they went about doing their business, checking their makeup and going into the stalls.

Y/N stepped back and out of the way of the sinks. She leaned against the other wall beside the trashcan. Her feet were starting to ache in her knee-high boots; so, she shifted her weight from one to the other, easing some of the pressure.

Y/N: _Hey! Just wanted to knw if you’ve seen Gabs?_

It took Whitney a couple minutes to text back. Minutes that went by gruelingly slow. The girls had all left by the time her phone vibrated in her hands.

Whitney: _No idea! Srry about the call. I met a guy!_ She followed that up with several winky faces and hearts.

Whitney: _Let her know I don’t need a ride tho. Probably won’t make it home. Thnx!_

That one was emphasized with some kisses and winky faces.

Y/N could tell when a conversation was over, so she tried to call Gabby again. It ended with the same result. She sent her a couple texts, but to no avail. Just more radio silence.

Buzz sufficiently tampered, she let Gabby know she was getting a cab. She stared up at the glass dome light about her head and groaned loudly in frustration. Then she pocketed her phone back in the pouch attached to her utility belt. She patted at her thigh pocket where she had her wallet, only to come up with nothing. Y/N patted down her hip pockets, and then back pockets. A bubble of panic started to rise from her stomach. She frowned, going for her bra, and then rechecking every single pocket she had.

Twice.

Then a third time.

No wallet. No goddamn wallet. She tried to think of where she could have left it, but it had been an hour since her last drink. There was no way she had left it at the bar.

Then she had gone to dance some more, and finally ended up here in the bathroom.

Somewhere between then and now her wallet had escaped.

Son of a bitch. She raked a rough hand through her hair. It probably looked wild in a crazy witch sort of way now. The mirror across from her confirmed her theory. Wild hair aside; ok, she could handle this. Maybe they had it at the bar. Maybe she dropped it, and someone gave it to the bartender. People were still nice like that.

With a rush of adrenaline fueling her steps, she shoved out of the bathroom and hurried to the bar. This couldn’t be happening.

It wasn’t at the bar.

The bartender helpfully informed her that they had been having a pick-pocket problem. Followed that up with a shrug and infuriating expression of pity.

Gave her a free shot of vodka for her troubles.

 

 

Dejected, it took her another 10 minutes to wind her way through the crowd. 10 long minutes to make it out of the maze of the outrageously huge club. She couldn’t help but feel pissed. All around abandoned by her friends. Robbed. She just wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and then collapse into her warm bed.

The frigid November wind only aided in agitating her more. The club was on a corner lot, and she walked a few paces away from the entrance. There were throngs of people still going into the club, and then stumbling masses making their way out of it. She waited on the edge of the sidewalk, watching as the headlights of the cars flashed by in blurs of color. She could see her breath in the wind and cursed her skin-tight leather jacket for not being warmer. The heat from the club abandoned her more every single time a gust of air pushed her to the side.

Luckily, she could feel the vodka coiling in her stomach, spreading numb warmth through her veins. It also managed to calm her down, guiding her from the edge of crying. She bit her lip and slumped against a lamp post.

A taxi started to pull over for her, and she let out a groan of frustration as she waved them on. No point in wasting the poor guy’s time. Renewed tears of frustration pricked her eyes as she tried to figure out who she could call. Her two best friends with cars had already outright deserted her ass. She pulled out her phone and started clicking through all her contacts. Rubbing at her fingers against the phone as she went. The light of her phone made her wince, and the harsh street light reflected white off her leather sleeves. No one else she knew drove.

No one except…

She hovered her thumb over Bucky’s name. He was probably still at his friend’s right now. If not there, likely passed out in some corner. They weren’t that close, and this would seriously be putting him out.

But she was desperate.

Y/N pressed the phone to her ear as it started to ring. Again, and again… and oh god he wouldn’t answer and he was going to wake up to a random call from an indecent hour and no explanation…

“Hello?”

“Bucky!” She uttered his name with an embarrassing amount of relief. Immediately she took a step away from the post, too nervous to stand still.

“Hey uh… are you alright?” He asked slowly, voice deeper over the phone. At least he sounded like he hadn’t been sleeping, or drunk. What if he was actually busy? What if he was _busy_ with someone? She could just make out the sound of music over the line, and laughter.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” She ignored his question in favor of asking one of her own. What if she just interrupted a hookup? Accidentally cock blocked him? The thought made her a little queasy, and her free arm crossed protectively over herself.

“Oh no, um just at Steve’s party.” She pursed her lips, looking up at the sky.  Couldn’t make out any of the stars thanks to the city that never sleeps. Steve. He had never mentioned Steve before. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She didn’t even know the names of his real friends.

He seemed hesitant when she didn’t say anything right away. Vodka was making its way through her. Her brain felt a bit slow “Is there anything that I can do for ya? Not that I don’t appreciate random calls or anything, but…” Bucky trailed off, waiting for her to finish the sentence for him.

The question made her straighten back up and scrub a hand over her face, suddenly remembering her awkward situation “I don’t want to put you out but… Well I’m kinda stuck at club Hydra. Without money, or a ride. Do ya think maybe you could give me a lift home? If you can’t it’s ok I can figure something else out. Promise I’ll pay you back though!” Her lipstick had smeared over her palm. She wiped it off on her thigh distractedly.

There were a few long beats of silence. The only way she knew he was still on the line was by the intermittent bursts of background laughter. Finally, she heard Bucky let out a sigh that made the speaker crackle “I’m not even going to ask. I can be there in 10 if you don’t mind riding on my bike.”

“No that’s fine!” No, she didn’t mind the idea of riding on the back of his bike at all. It sounded like the best thing ever. A great way to pick up her shitty night. “Are you sure though? I don’t want to make you leave your party.”

She could hear some shuffling, and it sounded like Bucky was talking to someone, but she couldn’t make out any of his words. When his voice came back he was a bit louder “Nah it’s alright. Starting to die out anyway.”

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Y/N suddenly asked, a bit concerned. Mostly not even for herself.

Bucky snorted a laugh “No I’m not drunk. Would never dream of risking my bike like that.” A screen door slammed over the phone, and he cursed. Something about stupid weather and stupid damsels in distress. She opted to ignore him.

“I was more worried about you than the bike, but I’ll take what I can get.” She paced around her small bit of sidewalk. It felt like there might be snow in the air. Above the buildings she wondered if the clouds were gearing up for it, thick and heavy.

“Shouldn’t worry ‘bout me, but thanks anyway.” There was a jingling of keys, and then a roaring crackle over the speaker that made her jerk the phone away from her ear. He must have started his bike.

To compensate she spoke up a bit louder “Thank you so much. I’m already outside. Can’t miss me. I’m in all leather.”

Bucky laughed a little, but it was distorted from the motorcycle “It’s Halloween weekend. I don’t think you’re the only girl out there sportin’ all leather.” Before she could defend her entirely unique leather get-up, he finished “But I’m sure you’ll stand out anyway. See ya in a bit.” Then he hung up.

 

 

The next 5 minutes passed agonizingly slow. She huddled herself up against a rough brick wall, thankful that she was wearing pants. Even if the leather was thin. She didn’t want to go back into the club, and chance missing Bucky. Besides, it was only 10 minutes. She could handle that. Her phone stayed pressed close to her face as she flipped through Tumblr, attempting to keep her mind off the howling wind. It bit at her fingers, and pink nose.

At first, she didn’t notice. There was always a background rush of voices on the streets, along with cars, and horns. City noises. A lot of the louder voices were guys, shouting obscenities at no one in particular. Even when she had been cat called a few times, it never amounted to anything.  Usually she just kept walking or flipped them off, then kept walking.

“Hey sweetheart why you all by yourself?” She glanced up from her phone, wondering what poor girl was getting harassed and if maybe she should do something.

Then she realized that poor girl was her.

Too stunned to say anything, she kept quiet. The guys were leering at her from down the sidewalk. Probably coming from the club. There were five, all in various costumes, and all likely in various states of intoxication. The ringleader stood in the front, backed up by two other big guys, the fatter one was in a basketball jersey, the other a pirate’s hat with a ruby feather. They were all tall, but not quite as tall as Bucky. Not many guys were.

When she didn’t respond, the ringleader stepped closer to her little ball of light. She stood underneath a streetlamp light. The post was positioned on the other side of the sidewalk, next to the street, but its illumination reached her against the wall. It felt like the safest place. Not that Hydra was located on a shady street, but it was late at night, or early in the morning. She was a girl. It was also Halloween. Now she was starting to wonder if the light was more like a beacon for all the goddamn scumbags of the world.

“Wanna keep us company?” He continued, a wide smirk making his teeth flash in the headlights of a car “We can warm you up real nice.”

Discount Jack Sparrow chuckled from beside him “You make one damn hot Black Widow. I’d love to see what’s under your leather.” She felt his eyes on her cleavage even if she couldn’t see him clearly in the shadows. Suddenly she wanted to zip her top back up, but she didn’t dare give him the goddamn satisfaction of appearing embarrassed.

Up to this point she was far too amazed at the blatant sexual harassment heading her way to say anything. That comment jarred her into standing up straighter, trying to appear bigger than she was. Then she glared at them “Fat chance asshole. Leave me alone.” She bristled more when they just laughed at her and felt her stomach drop. This wasn’t good.

If she screamed it wouldn’t do much. It was Halloween. People were screaming everywhere. Plus, in a city, one scream just disappeared like smoke among all the other noises. There wasn’t anyone around paying any attention. The main bustle was over at the club, but she was far away from it now. Went to wait next to a parking garage a distance away so Bucky would have an easier time spotting her. A huge building filled with cars, not people. Sure, there were cars going by, but no one gave a shit what happened outside the nice tinted glass of their ride.

To her left, yards away, the fluorescent lights of Hydra’s sign flashed mockingly at her. To her right the street was deserted, the parking garage was huge enough that it took up the sidewalk till it hooked around the other corner several yards away. In front of her the street flowed like an impassable, steady river of cars. The neanderthals blocked her from heading back to the safety of Hydra.

It would be a lucky day if anyone paid her any attention at all.

“Aw you even talk like her. Why don’t we play a little?” The ringleader stepped into her circle of light now. Contaminating it. She pressed further back against the brick behind her “I’ll be the Hulk, and you can be my little Widow.” He had greasy dark hair, pushed back from his long pale face, the brim of a scuffed top hat hooded his dark eyes. He was toned underneath his circus coat, she could tell by the way it hugged his chest. A literal evil ringmaster. How ironic. Probably not even all that ugly when that sneer didn’t stretch his face. Probably one of those guys that didn’t take no for an answer, even in a setting much nicer than this.

As they crowded closer in, she could smell the alcohol on them. Alcohol, and pot. Not that substances are any excuse, but it made her spine tingle with adrenaline. Substances just made people get angrier faster and hit harder.

Without even responding, she bolted, or tried. Lunged to the right. Maybe if she made it to the end of the block she could go across the crosswalk. Across the street there were restaurants, and people. She made it all of five steps before a hand caught her wrist and wrenched her back. Involuntarily, she stumbled into Ringleader’s chest. His other arm snaked around her waist, crushing her there as she tried to wiggle away.

She screamed then.

Whether she believed it would help or not. It was just a natural damn response. Fear sliced down her spine and beat the wail out of her.

His hand left her wrist and covered her mouth. Circus Freak’s palm tasted dirty when she tried to bite, but he just pressed harder. His thumb wrapped over her nose. She could barely breathe.

“Shut the fuck up.” He tugged her back, making her stumble with him, and then took her out of the light all together. The lamp flickered and hummed, above her head. She watched it get smaller. He dragged her over towards the opening of the car garage. It gaped at her like the ominous jaws of a monster. If she went in there, she might never come out.

Even if she did, she might not be able to put herself back together. Not for a second time.

Y/N tried letting herself go dead weight, but he just grunted and pulled her harder. Ringleader’s arm was an iron bar. It dug into and bruised her ribs. Her jacket hiked up from the squirming, and suddenly his grimy hand was squeezing her bare side. Heartbeat spiking, she scratched at his arms, kicked at his legs, started to buck back. Her feet didn’t connect with more than his shins, but at least he cursed. Blood welled up under her nails, and as she squirmed his hand started to slip. She fought with everything she had in her. Finally, he let go of her mouth to contain her arms.

“Grab the goddamn slut’s legs!” He demanded, voice rough from too many smokes. Hands caught her wrists in a bruising vice. He tugged them up above her head.

Fatty in the ball jersey did as ordered. He bent over and grabbed her thighs, lifting them off the ground. Couldn’t get a solid hold with her bucking. He managed to keep her calves lifted, and she used his support to push off. With all her strength, she brought up one foot when he pushed closer to her. She got in one good, hard kick into his snarling face. The heel of her boot cracked him right in the nose. Snapped his head back and he let out a surprised wail. A wave of gratification swept her chest. She even smiled a little, past the tears that smeared her mascara.

It didn’t last long. Jersey held his flooding nose with his left hand and stammered “You bitch!” The rage in his voice tremored through his muscles. He brought back his big meaty hand and landed a stinging backhand across her face. Bastard had a hulking ring on his finger. The jewel caught on her cheekbone and tore into her skin. Her ears started to ring, and glowing halos of light danced in her eyes when she blinked. The force split her lip and she tasted blood.

At least his nose looked broken, blood splattering across his stupid purple jersey. She hoped the stain never came out.

In slapping her, he let go of her feet, so she started trying to kick again. She kicked despite the throbbing through her skull. Kicked despite the ringing in her ears. Despite the hands that constricted her. Bruised her.

Still, it wasn’t really going anywhere. She pegged another guy with devil horns in the middle of his chest. He caught her feet, wrapped them under one of his arms, and constrained her. They started shuffling closer to the entrance, and she started to scream again. Her shoulders ached from bearing all her weight, and she stared up at Ringleader. His breath stank of alcohol when he stared down at her with a chilling grin.

That was when she heard a distinctive skid of tires on the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” One of the others, he had on a very ironic Superman getup, muttered as headlights blinded her. The guys were circled around the front of her, Ringleader binding her arms above her head from behind, Devil Horns holding her feet in front of her. Dirty Superman and Pirate Hat flanked her sides. All of them turned to gape as the lights turned off, and the sound of boots against sidewalk stalked towards them.

Somehow, Y/N knew who it was before she even heard him speak or saw his face. Her entire body sagged in relief, and she strained her neck to try and see.

“Bucky!” She screamed, but then Ringleader cut her off. He jostled her to hold her wrists in one hand, covering her mouth with the other. Devil horns dropped her feet, and she barely kept from falling like a stone. Ringleader tugged her up and back against him.

The others huddled away from Bucky when he got closer. She could just make out his face in the street lights, and his expression made her freeze. His eyes were as cold as winter. Face stony to match. He stood up at all his height, more menacing than ever before, and had yet to utter a single word.

Didn’t really have to. His body language said it all.

Ringleader must have been too stupid to listen “Hey buddy. I suggest you move along. Nothin’ to see here. Our friend was just about to show us a good time. Weren’t ya?” He spoke down to her, shaking her a little. Y/N let out a shriek of rage, clawing at his arm, ripping up more skin beneath his sleeve. He squeezed her mouth tighter, cutting off her air all together. Tears blurred her vision, streaks already staining her cheeks. She couldn’t remember when exactly she started crying. Her lungs burned as she fought to breathe through his skin.

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, one covered by a glove. Sporting a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans, and heavy boots he looked almost like John Travolta from Grease. Styled hair and everything. Would have made her weak in the knees in any other situation. Currently, she was struggling to breathe for entirely different reasons.

When he took a threatening step forward, her band of assholes stepped back. A gust of wind ruffled everyone’s hair, and she noticed little white flakes reflecting in the street lamp behind Bucky. Crystals caught in his hair, and she wondered why the universe made tonight the first snow fall.

A heavy silence hung thick in the air. She slapped progressively harder at Ringleader’s hand until he let her breathe again. By then her head was getting light. He still insisted on keeping his hand over her mouth. She sucked air in through her nose. The smell of cigarettes encased her, clogging the air.

Bucky’s eyes met hers across the tense darkness, and she could feel his worry without any words. It reflected in his blue eyes. Spoke through the small crease in his brow, and tense set of his mouth. Finally, though, he did speak up. His words dominated over the cars in the street and boomed across the sidewalk. Slowly, he stared down every single person with a deadly sort of calm.

“I suggest you douchebags let her go. Right now. If you want to walk away from here tonight.” His voice wavered just a bit in pent up rage. She tracked that rage across the stiffness of his shoulders and the clenching of his fists. Distantly she wondered how much damage he could do with a metal fist helping him. How many people had he made bleed with it during the war.

She watched a shudder pass through the spines of everyone standing there. The frost coming off him even made the tips of her fingers prickle. She squeezed her captor’s hand tighter, trying to pry it back off her mouth. He didn’t budge.

Stupidity, and pride always prevail. Ringleader laughed, and the movement jostled her. Her shoes scraped against the side walk as he tugged her up, making her stand on her tiptoes. The position strained her neck, and made her thighs burn. She arched her back to keep from pressing against him more than he made her. “Again, you should really leave before you piss me off. It’s five against one pal, can’t you count?”

Bucky smirked, but it was a bitter, piercing expression “I think you should count again.” Confusion passed through her for only a half of a second.

Then he charged. So fast she almost missed it. Pulling back his flesh hand he decked the nearest guy straight in the nose. It was Ironic Superman. The blow was so vicious she heard the crack from where she was a yard away. Superman’s head violently snapped to the left. His body followed it all the way to the ground. He didn’t move.  

“Four.” It made her heart jump in her throat when Bucky’s voice rang over the scuffle.

Bucky didn’t stop there. He spun just in time for Pirate to throw a wide fist towards his head. It was like he knew the blow was coming. Bucky ducked down. Dipped to the left. Then he stood straight, so damn light on his feet. Pirate stumbled past him, having displaced too much of his weight. Then he sloppily caught himself and faced Bucky angrily. Didn’t waste a second to attack again. Bucky was waiting. He slid just far enough to the right to let the blow go over his shoulder.

Pirate fell against his chest, and Bucky used the momentum to his favor. He caught his shoulders. Then used the downward momentum to drive his knee straight up into the guy’s chest. The feather fell from his hat as he let out all the air in his lungs. Bucky then drove his elbow into the back of his head before dropping him like a stone. The pirate hat landed in the gutter off the sidewalk.

“Three.”

Y/N held her breath. All of Bucky’s movements were so precise. No energy was wasted. He was proficient in every step. It was terrifying. He was beautifully deadly.

Devil Horns charged at Bucky with a roar. He was shorter, but stout as a rock. His fists flew fast enough that Bucky had to block them with his arms. One of the punches thrust straight for Bucky’s nose. He caught the blow with his left hand. Devil Horns tried to yank back and grunted at the strain. She thought she saw Bucky smirk, but then he blurred again. With a wide swing, he spun Devil and drove him face first into the awaiting concrete. The man’s forehead hit it with a hard thud. He stumbled back three steps. Bucky grabbed the back of his head and smacked it against the brick wall a second time.

He slumped to the ground after that. Horns all askew. Blood dripped down from his hairline, mouth slack.

“Two.”

Bucky turned on fatty, who already had a shirt soaked in blood from her. He was holding onto his nose and panting loudly through his mouth in terror. All Buck had to do was take one challenging step forward. Jersey immediately booked it. He passed Bucky and ran straight into traffic. Seemed like he would much rather be hit by a car. Cars honked at him and skidded to a stop to keep from killing his ass. He just kept going. Skipped past the cars, and then disappeared around a corner across the street.

“One.”

She could feel the rage trembling through Circus Freak. A span of silence stretched between them as her captor debated on what to do.

With a whip, he flung her to the side, making fall hard onto the sidewalk. Her elbow smarted when it caught her deadweight, making her cry out in pain. Then she scuffled up as quick as she could, scooting back and out of the way. Y/N felt small down on the side walk, pressed back against the wall. Two goliaths fought it out in front of her.

Bucky dodged back as her attacker threw a fist. He dipped to the left. Weaved out of the way to the right. He narrowly avoided Ringleader’s punches. She wondered why he was being on the defensive more now. At least, she wondered until she caught the glint of the butterfly knife in Ringleader’s hand.

He knocked the knife out of the way and landed a solid punch on the guy’s jaw. It didn’t stop him, though. He just swung harder, faster. Fueled by rage and hurt pride. He crowded Bucky back until he was a step from the street. Cars whizzed by, and it seemed Ringleader wanted to shove Bucky under one of them. A semi-truck barreled down towards them, and she saw the heel of his shoe slip.

“Bucky!” She screamed in warning and his head whipped towards her. He stepped forward, towards her and away from the street. Distracted, she saw the flash of the blade before he did. Ringleader finally landed a sharp slice across his chest. She let out a sharp scream. Blood stained his white shirt. Bucky didn’t even wince. In fact, he didn’t react at all.

As Ringleader swung for a second swipe, he caught the guy’s arm in his left hand. His face carefully blank. Like he hadn’t been cut at all. He forced Ringleader back two steps and loomed over him. His mouth was set hard, and his silver eyes were the embodiment of winter.

Ringleader tugged, trying to get free. He swung loosely with his non-dominant hand, but Bucky caught that fist too. Then he squeezed. Only with his left hand. She watched at the man’s knees started to wobble under him. He dropped the blade with a clatter. Then he screamed.

“What the fuck?! Let me go you psycho! You’re gonna break—” She luckily didn’t hear the crack of his bones. It was obvious in his wail, though. He kept going down until he was on his knees. Bucky let go of his non-dominant hand. Still kept his agonizing hold with his left.

Ringleader clawed at Bucky’s gloved hand with his free one. He tried to get free like a fox caught in a bear trap. Yanked so hard that she was surprised he didn’t dislocate his shoulder. The snow came down harder now. It caught on the brim of his top hat where it had fallen near his legs, making it almost grey. Bucky’s hair had come free from its pomade. It fell in his face as he stooped down to glare at the squirming man.

He wasn’t speaking. Wasn’t flinching when the man tried to pry the metal fingers off him. It was like he wasn’t there at all. Like his mind had checked out, and left behind a ghost.

“I’m sorry! Please man! Let me go!” His voice broke as he started to sob.

Y/N scrambled to her feet. Bucky wasn’t stopping. He already broke the guy’s hand. Yet he kept squeezing. The man was howling now, begging. Seemed like he might have even pissed himself. She took a couple steps towards them, hesitant at first. Bucky didn’t even seem to notice her anymore. He scared her like this. Terrified her to her very bones. She reached out a hand, but her feet were lead. Then Bucky brought back his flesh hand, ready to punch Ringleader again.

“Bucky!” She shouted, forcing herself to move. It took her just three easy steps to get beside him. She grabbed his fist in the air. Wasn’t strong enough to make it come down from its position, but she tugged anyway. Practically draped herself against him, holding his arm where it hung in the air next to her head “Stop! Stop it.” She spoke louder at first, but then softened her tone when she felt him freeze. He didn’t look at her. Just glared down at her attacker. “I’m ok. I’m alright now. Let him go. Please.” The muscles in his arm eased up just enough. She gently guided his flesh hand down, uncurling his fist. She pried at his fingers until his fist relaxed minutely.

“Y-ya man. L-listen to your girl you should j-just- Fuck!!” Bucky had started releasing his grip on the guy’s wrist, but the moment he started blabbering he squeezed again. A growl rumbled in his throat, like the guy personally offended him by breathing.

“Buck!” Y/N chastised him, reaching over and touching his metal hand. Probably for the very first time if she thought about it. She could feel it underneath the glove, harder than bone, and cold even through the material. “Please, let’s just go. He can’t hurt me anymore.” Probably wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore for a long time.

Bucky finally let go at her touch. He shoved Ringleader’s arm away like it disgusted him. Didn’t stop glowering at him, though. Still wouldn’t look at her. The man collapsed into a heap onto the sidewalk. His broken wrist was already blue, swollen, and bent wrong. It made her nauseous, so she stared back at Bucky’s face instead.

Ringleader scraped himself up after a minute and started to run away. Scrambled past the parking garage, down the snow dusted sidewalk. Shoes skidded a couple times, and his pants leg did have a noticeable damp spot. His arm was cradled to his chest. Only a yard away, he turned his head, coat bustling in the wind “Your dog’s a fucking psycho! Should keep him on a goddamn leash!” Then he jogged faster, letting his words disappear behind him. Like the coward he was.

Bucky tried to lunge after him. His muscles bunched under her hand as he snarled. She stepped in front of him just a second before he could start the chase. Y/N pressed herself to him, hands flat on his chest. The blood from his wound was hot against her hands, but she barely noticed. Too focused on blocking his path. Peering up at him, she realized that her eye had started to swell shut. He didn’t shove her out of the way. In fact, he finally looked down at her. It was like her action had finally broken him out of the fog he was in.

As they stared at each other for several long minutes, the defeated attackers slowly roused. One by one the other members of the group scraped themselves off the sidewalk. None of them were dead thank god. They quickly fled too. Silently, though. She barely paid them any attention. It was still snowing hard, and she watched as flakes caught in his eyelashes. Headlights cast shifting shadows around them. Wrestling like demons at their feet. She couldn’t help but question what demons Bucky kept locked inside of his head. Only demons could make someone fight as desperately as he just did.

Slowly, afraid of startling him, she reached up and touched his cheek. She cupped his face in her hands and studied him seriously “Are you alright?” Her thumb brushed over his bruised jaw. It did dawn on her that it was ironic for her to be asking him if he was alright. After everything that had happened. She did it anyway. He seemed to have lost himself during the fight. His eyes were focusing from somewhere far away. She couldn’t believe she just watched him break someone’s hand without flinching. With the adrenaline wearing off, she wanted to cry all over again.

Bucky blinked once. Then twice. He swallowed and grimaced. His flesh hand gently touched her left. His longer fingers cupped over hers. It was so warm. She could feel the calluses on his palms as he slowly guided her hand away. He didn’t touch her with his metal one, but she dropped her hand anyway. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with her touching him like that. She left small smudges of blood on his cheek.

“I’m fine. Are you ok?” He brought his right hand up and touched the side of her face. She winced, realizing that her cheek was still on fire. Her lip felt tender too when her tongue tested the dried blood.

“Why do guys always managed to hit a girl right across the cheekbone?” She asked, trying to make a joke but it landed flat. He didn’t even try to smile. His thumb brushed across her lip, and she grimaced, looking away. Ringleader’s hat was still on the ground right by her foot. She stepped on it, grinding it into the snow. When she moved her foot away, it inflated like a crumbled accordion. She thought maybe Bucky did snort at that. It was too quiet for her to be sure.

 “God I’m a mess.” The words babbled out of her past the buzzing in her ears. She glanced down at herself. One knee was ripped open and so was her elbow, both were bleeding. Her jacket had come unzipped down to her ribs, leaving everything showing. Y/N brought her hand up to zip it back, but her fingers were shaking too much to get a good grip. Her breaths started to come in faster as she got more, and more frustrated. Her fingers were numb and clumsy.

Bucky’s hand came up and he covered her own, taking the damned thing. He slowly closed her jacket back up to her collarbones. She had never in her life been more grateful for such a simple action. His thumb stroked her collar just once, leaving a hot trail behind. Then his hands fell away.

Before she could find the words to thank him, her eyes caught the sheen of red on his chest “Y-You’re hurt, and b-bleeding a lot and you’re asking me if I’m ok?” She gave a hysterical laugh, tears already escaping her eyes again. They stung the cut the guy left on her cheekbone. Her hands shook as she brought them up. She wanted to get a better look at the cut. What if he needed stitches? What if he got a scar cause of her? Cause she distracted him like an idiot?

“I-I’m so sorry. I sh-shouldn’t have yelled. I was just so scared and—"

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he quickly brought up his arms. The motion cut off her babbling, uncontrollable apology. He tugged her into an enveloping, hard hug. She tried to protest as he pressed her against his wound, but then his chest rumbled as he started to talk. Her ear was trapped against his collarbone above the wound. It was the most comforting sound she had ever heard “I’m ok doll. Promise. It doesn’t hurt that much. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He shushed her when she tried to speak “Believe me. Much worse.” Then he squeezed her shoulder lightly and rubbed. The metal hand he just used to crush someone’s arm rubbed hers with more tenderness than she had experienced in a very long time.

Somehow, it didn’t bother her at all.

Finally, once her shoulders stopped shaking and her gross sniffling died down, he pulled back. Bucky held her just a bit away, his hands still rubbing her shoulders. He reached up and wiped at her chin, grimacing. He gave a very weak, sheepish smile “Sorry, I got blood on your…” He trailed off, gesturing to her face. She just shrugged, too tired to care. There were a lot of things smeared on her face. Besides, she got blood on his too. Just didn’t even have the energy to tell him. When he noticed his left hand was still touching her, he dropped it down.

Y/N sniffed, trying to clear her nose. The cold snowy air hurt her lungs. Then she rubbed at her face as much as she could stand. Her eye felt tender and wouldn’t stop blurring.  Probably smudging tears, blood, and makeup all together. Then she spoke up, voice a bit rough “I don’t mind it.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head a little. Confused. She shivered as a gust of wind caught her. Now that the adrenaline had passed, she was so frosty her teeth were starting to chatter. Still, she tried to elaborate “Y-Your metal arm doesn’t bother me.”

Bucky stared at her critically and then shook his head, as if she were ridiculous “Let’s get you home.” He sighed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders, his right one. The snow had covered any traces of a fight taking place at all. It was already sticking to the street, forming muddy tracks from the tires. He tucked her into his side where it was warm, under his jacket. Now that she had a calm minute, she enjoyed the way his smell enveloped her.

“I’m s-serious!” She still couldn’t stop shivering “It’s just another p-part of you. A-And I like y-you.” She glared up at him, trying to drill in her honesty with her eyes.

Bucky only stopped to consider at her after they reached his bike. He let her go and dusted the snow off the seat. Then he grabbed a helmet, offering it to her quietly. She was just about to speak up again when he finally whispered, “Thank you.” If she hadn’t been looking at him, she thought the words might have been stolen by the loud gust of wind.

There wasn’t much else she could say to that. So, she put on her silver helmet, and climbed onto the bike behind him. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, revealing a black unzipped hoodie underneath. He shoved his jacket into her hands, and she shrugged it on quietly, grateful. Everything ached too much for her to argue.

Bucky clasped on his own helmet and revved up the bike. When it jumped to life underneath her, she quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, stuffing them into the pockets of his jacket when the wind bit at her fingers. At least the helmet kept her ears warm. She thought she felt Bucky chuckle underneath her when she gripped tighter. He pulled on a second glove, zipped up his jacket, and then smoothly merged into the nighttime traffic.

The drive home wasn’t as wonderful as she thought it would be. Not after everything that just happened. Still, it was beautiful. He weaved through the cars with a precise control, that was definitely dangerous. It reminded her a little of how he fought. Daring, and proficient.

At lot of the time he passed cars without any legal right-of-way at all. Bucky went as fast as he could, and she wondered if he was running from something. Running from the demons she couldn’t see that nipped at his heels. Y/N never felt in harms way, though. If anything, he made her feel like they were flying. Like the bike was gliding up off the ground whenever she wasn’t looking. Colors blurred past her. Paint smudges on a canvas, outlined in charcoal. She bunched the fabric of Bucky’s jacket in her hands and turned her forehead to press against the broad of his back.

He covered her hand with his right one. Slipped it into the pocket and laced them together. His skin was warm on top of hers. Wistfully, she imagined he still had charcoal on his fingers. That the charcoal would smudged across her skin and stain it forever. Leaving a mark that would remind her he was there. Even when he wasn’t.


	2. Inky Blotches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky insisted on taking care of her after the attack, and swore that she didn’t owe him anything. Even if she didn’t, the opportunity to return the favor came a lot sooner than she thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with the emotional bits in this chapter.  
> Just a warning, there is a pretty heavy panic attack later on.  
> Let me know what you think! Comments fuel me haha
> 
> On a side note, what’s everyone’s view on long chapters? Good? Bad?  
> If I did shorter ones I could update quicker. Are they obnoxious? Haha
> 
> I create banners for each of my chapters and post them with the chapter on Tumblr.  
> [See it here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/177387993368/your-colors-ch2?is_related_post=1)

“Hold still.” She flinched when the damp wipe brushed out the last of the gravel from her knee. His hand punctuated the words by gripping her calf to steady her. Bucky’s touch almost burned against her chilled skin, making her hiss. His lips pursed more in concentration, thumb soothingly rubbing up her calf, brushing the side of her knee and back down. It didn’t seem like he even realized he was doing it.

Wearing only plaid boxer shorts, she could feel his breath ghosting her thigh. A draft of heat puttered out of the vent across her bare feet, renewing life in her toes. The sensation made her curl her toes in the fuzzy blue mat under them. Damp strands of hair fell over her shoulders, seeping through her black tshirt. All of the clinging snow had melted a while ago but left behind chilly wet spots. Her leather clothes were discarded off by her bed. She made Bucky let her change while he waited in her bathroom. He insisted on cleaning her up. Stubbornly, followed her up into her apartment despite her protests. Before he could, though, she stipulated that the leather had to go.

They were still arguing over him letting her patch him up in return. She would. Whether he liked it or not.

“It hurts.” Y/N muttered, watching as renewed blood bubbled up from the shallow scrape. Her kneecap looked like someone took a cheese grater to the protective outer layer. Bucky peeled open a large band aid, and covered the wound, antibiotic slowly numbing the sting. His thumbs stroked the edges, pushing out any bubbles, “You’re weirdly good at this.” She continued when he ignored her. The band aid on her knee matched the one on her elbow and cheek.

The warm light from her bathroom vanity brought out the ugly harshness of the bruise on her friend’s jaw. It looked like it hurt. There were light pink stains from where he washed the blood off his face in her sink. He was a bit haggard. Still, he smiled up at her, crouched down on his knees between her thighs, “Even before I got first aid in the army, Steve was always getting into trouble.” He threw away the antiseptic wipes, and band aid bits. “He hated bullies but loved fights. Wasn’t no bigger than you back then.” His voice took on a wistful tone that she had never heard from him before “I was always pulling him out of the gutter and patching him back up. Stevie never had much sense.” He shook his head and patted her thigh as he got up. His shirt stretched tight over his broad shoulders as he shifted. When he stood, she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes.

“Sounds like you two are close.” She stated quietly. The bag of frozen peas had sufficiently numbed her eye, cheek, and fingers, so she sat it on the sink beside her. Her elbow protested at being used, the band aid catching on her skin, constricting the motion.

Bucky had taken off his jacket when they arrived, keeping as much blood off it as he could. Only in a mostly white t-shirt now and dusty jeans. Blood soaked through the fabric, like ink staining paper in invasive patterns. His hair was completely wrecked, the knuckles on his right hand split. Dried blotches of blood had caked up in some places between his fingers.

He nodded dismissively, shrugging “He’s my best friend. I’ve followed that punk around since we were small. Made a promise that we would be there for each other after his mom died.” He paused for a minute, rubbing at his eyes and then grumbling tiredly “God, that was years ago now.” It was like all the energy swept out of him right then and there. Exhaustion caught up in a tidal wave, rather than the usual trickling stream. He leaned back against the sink to her right.

Despite the late hour, music thumped in from the wall separating her from her neighbors. Parties never seemed to end on that side of the wall, but she expected no less from fellow college students. Most of the time she just put in ear plugs and ignored it. The choking, clatter of her vents usually overpowered any of their noises anyway. It was pure luck that her walls happened to not be as thin as paper.

Y/N stood up slowly, the skin feeling tight across her wounds. Under her breath, she started to hum along with the Marilyn Manson song they were jamming out to. She ripped open a wipe and gestured towards his chest when he studied her suspiciously “You really should let me clean it.” She fueled her tone with as much stubbornness the fatigue in her bones would let her.

“I can take care of myself. You don’t have to.”

“Buck… please.” Her voice dropped quietly, and she took a very short single step to move in front of him. Her bathroom wasn’t that big. It was a tiny closed off segment of her otherwise open apartment. Just a standing shower, toilet, and sink. Not even a bathtub. While she stubbornly stood off in front of him, she gave him as much space as she could. Even so, she could feel the heat radiating from him. Could see the tick in his jaw as he willed her to back down “You literally saved my life. Let me do this.”

“You don’t owe—”

Wincing a little, she cut him off “I know. I know I don’t. But please.” She met his eyes, and he stared down at her for another couple seconds. She caught the moment that his shoulders sagged, and he relented. Loudly, dramatically, he groaned and rolled his eyes. Next, he threw up his hands and let them smack loudly on his thighs. Y/N flinched for him when the motion jarred his wound.

“Fine! Fuck it! Fine.” Bucky tugged his shirt over his head and flung it out of the open bathroom door. It was ruined anyway. The material was ripped and stained beyond repair. “You just want to see me shirtless. I know it.” He teased, and she giggled just a little. It helped ease some of the tension coiled in her stomach. If he was teasing her, then maybe things weren’t all that bad after all. Maybe she could get past this. Move past all the demons of her own the night had summoned back from the recesses of her mind.

Of course, seeing him shirtless was a perk, but the sight of the angry wound made guilt flood her heart. Bucky had a very toned body. Easily a head taller than her. Broad shoulders, abs, thick arms, all of it. Dried blood had dripped down to his ribs. The wound stretched from his right shoulder, diagonally down to his lower chest, just above his nipple. It hurt her to even look at it.

Letting out a soft sigh, she picked up her frosty bag of peas and pressed it against his jaw. Bucky snorted a laugh but didn’t push it away. It seemed that he was done playing the big tough guy. He was going to humor her after all. His hand cupped over hers as he took the peas and held them against his face. She smiled at him gratefully.

Quietly, she started to clear away the blood. It took several packages of wipes, discolored pink and scattered across the counter. Even her fingertips started to stain pink “At least you don’t need stitches.” She finally mused. The stillness started to eat at her nerves. He had been silent the entire time, but she could feel him watching her. His breathing was slow, chest rising and falling under her hands. There was a something comforting about his breath. It evened out hers.

“And how do you know?” He teased, wincing only a little when she started to clean the raw edges of the cut. They were jagged, but shallow.

“Sorry.” She muttered absently, trying to dab just a hair lighter “I’ve had a semester of basic first aid.”

“What do you even go to school for?” Bucky asked incredulously, his voice was soft in the intimate space of her bathroom. Her left hand came up and touched his shoulder, steadying him when he started to shuffle impatiently. The peas crinkled in his hand when he shifted them to a cooler spot. Condensation dripped onto the back of her hand.

“I’m gonna get my bachelor’s so I can teach Art and English. Picked up a first aid class so I could know what to do if a kid got hurt.” She explained, leaning back to study his wound. It had stopped bleeding, but was still puffy, angry pink. She hoped it wouldn’t get infected. Her eyes drifted to his metal arm where it glinted in the light. The silver reflected the soft green of her bathroom, and the colors spiraled when he crossed his arm over his stomach. She distantly wondered how he was used to the cold metal against his warm skin.

“Should have known.” He shook his head, snorting rudely. Y/N’s gaze flicked to his face. He was definitely making fun of her.

“And why’s that?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and opened a large, sterile bandage.

With a snicker, he shrugged “Nothing, you just seem like the type. You’re bossy enough.” Bucky paused, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully “And motherly enough.” He mused.

Pouting at him, she pushed the bandage into place a little harder than necessary. Bucky yelped, cursing at her. He nearly dropped the peas in his hurry to lean away from her, head almost hitting the mirror behind him. Undeterred, she secured the cloth with a little extra tape. “If I really was bossy enough then you would have your figure drawing done by now.” She scolded, spinning to leave the bathroom with a dismissive wave.

Over her shoulder she threw out “And I’m not motherly! Just cause I care doesn’t mean I’m a nag.” She didn’t know why the insult stung. He was just joking, but still, she didn’t like that he saw her as a mom. She shoved his leather jacket out of her way on the bed in retaliation. It slid off her unmade covers and fell in a clump onto the floor. With a small hop, she took its place on her bed, and picked her phone up from where it rested on her pillow.

“Never said you were a nag.” Bucky grumbled, and she heard him flick off the bathroom light. Submerged her apartment in darkness. Only a little light snuck in past the curtains on the back wall. She didn’t look up from her phone in her hands. The screen was bright in her eyes, making her squint a little. Gabby had finally gotten back to her. Only a tad too late. Apparently, she had been dancing with a guy and hadn’t heard her phone. Her friend sent her a selfie with said guy. It was blurry and dark, but they looked cute together. Whitney confirmed that she had gone home too, the one-night stand ended perfectly. Something close to jealous resentment tightened in her chest, and she couldn’t bring herself to reply. Whitney and Gabby had made it home safe, that was all she needed to know.

Didn’t know if she wanted to fill them in on all the ‘gentlemen’ she had met or not. A dark part of her liked the idea of them feeling guilty for ditching her. The logical, socially acceptable part of her, didn’t want to manipulate them like that. Either way, the idea of lying didn’t sit well either. No amount of makeup could hide her bruise or split lip successfully. Fuck it. She’d just have to sleep on it.

If Bucky noticed her shift in mood, he didn’t comment. She plugged up her phone and laid it down, silent and screen first, on her nightstand. Then she flicked the switch on for her lamp, it radiated soft gold across her small bedroom area. He stepped closer to her bed and tossed the melting bag of peas across the room. It landed on her glass topped coffee table with a clank. Sounded like it also knocked one of the TV remotes to the floor with a clatter. Even the crash of her property didn’t make him pause in his rambling. Did he always have a one-track mind?

“We’ve still got over a week to get it done!” He continued with a groan. The heavy level of whine in his tone made her smile. She didn’t feel like smiling. Just wanted to wallow in self-pity for a little longer. Yet she couldn’t help it when he acted like this. This felt familiar. Normal. Teasing, and joking. It was almost like the attack didn’t happen. If she ignored the swelling of her face and big white bandage on Bucky’s chest, she could pretend he brought her straight home from the club. That he came up for a Halloween drink. It was just an ugly, distant nightmare.

Y/N’s silver digital clock informed her that it was almost 3 in the morning now. She could feel it like sand between her joints. Every second another grain fell from an hourglass and piled up inside her bones. Still, she laughed at Bucky’s whining as she shoved aside her tangled blankets. They wrapped around her like a nest, and she tucked her toes under the edges, reveling in the warmth.

“Ahuh, and you haven’t even started.” She played along, letting their conversation wash the dark thoughts away. Even she had started her final illustration only a day ago. He hadn’t seen it yet, and she didn’t know if she would show him until it was done. It felt a little personal. She was redrawing and cleaning up the illustration of him sitting by her window. Didn’t know what medium she would use for the final yet. Ink crossed her mind once or twice.

“Have to!” Bucky argued, gesturing with his arms to accentuate his statement. He still didn’t have a shirt on, and he probably didn’t realize how beautiful he looked, completely open like he was. Hair completely wrecked, pale eyes glinting in the soft light, and jeans hanging low on his sharp hipbones despite the thick black belt. Guiltily, her eyes followed the trail of hair down his abs, to the V of his hips where it disappeared.

“Since when?” Gaze flicking back up to his, she smirked, ignoring the sudden dryness of her throat. Her fingers curled over her toes through the blankets, and she noticed the flush crawling over his shoulders. It started on his neck and shifted down over his chest. He didn’t like losing arguments, and she loved when she frustrated him. Especially when it was only with fake, playful fights.

Bucky paused, sputtering “Since… You’re such a little shit.” He was smiling so the insult barely registered. Then he stepped in closer to her. Her nose reached his ribs, and her heart started to stutter. Like his proximity made it forget how to beat quite right. She grinned up at him, but then her expression softened. His eyes reflected the light of her lamp, almost jade green. This close she could smell his cologne, and natural, sweet sweat. The skin across his chest shone pale gold, muscles moving just below the surface. She had never yearned to kiss someone more in her life. Couldn’t remember a time that her heart ached so acutely.

For just a second she thought maybe he would. Maybe he felt the pull too. He leaned down towards her, stooping his head, and her eyes flicked to his lips. She licked her own unconsciously, and noticed his tongue darted out too just for a second. Neither of them were smiling anymore. But then, he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Lightly, he reached forward and shoved at her shoulder. “Don’t know why I put up with you.” The push jarred her out of the hypnotic state she was in. She felt like the disappointment might make her heart fracture a little. She would never let him know that.

Y/N easily fell back onto her elbows, leaning up to glare at him. Her hair splayed out over her blankets behind her, mouth pursed as she tried not to smile “Cause you’re a loser with no better options.”

“Oh, I have plenty of friends. I’m just too embarrassed to introduce them to you.” He shot back, all high and mighty. Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him, offended.

In retaliation, she untangled her feet from her blankets. As hard as she dared, she kicked him against his bare stomach. Foot making a satisfying smacking sound against his abs. He yielded just a bit, stumbling back. If he wanted she knew he could have stood his ground. That wouldn’t have been fun, though.

Bucky caught her ankle in both of his hands and tutted disapprovingly at her. The sharp cold of his metal hand against her skin made her involuntarily gasp. It was a small, vulnerable sound. Born from the shock and goosebumps suddenly covering her skin. Loud in the quiet of the early morning. His tutting cut short. Like maybe his tongue had just stopped working.

Whatever they had both been about to say got lost between them. He hesitated for just a second, tracking her expression. He swallowed loud enough that she heard the click of his bones. A blush burned across her face. It bloomed from her nose and burned her cheekbones. She smiled softly, trying to ease the concern drawing his brows together. She didn’t want him to think it was because he hurt her or scared her. His fingers lightly squeezed her ankle, and his metal thumb brushed down her ankle bone. The motion made a spark shoot up her spine and she shivered.

The jerk broke through the fragility of their stare, and Bucky let go, stepping back “I should be getting home. Wanna sleep so I can actually start that project.” He cleared his throat, not looking at her. There was a heaviness in the air now. Y/N put her feet down and sat up, heartbeat unreasonably high. He walked over and picked his jacket off the end of her bed. Slowly, careful of his cut, he shrugged it on and zipped it up.

Bucky glanced around and spotted his leather jacket at her feet. He frowned but didn’t ask how it got there. She scooted down and stooped to pick it up before he could. It was smooth and heavy in her hands. Bucky hesitantly took it from her when she offered it out. A smile flitted over his features, but it felt a little forced. “Thanks.” His voice was thick and gruff.

Shrugging into his leather jacket, he tucked the ruined white shirt in his pocket. He gathered his keys off her bedside table. They jingled, loud in their pointed silence. She wanted to say something as he patted down his pockets, checking his phone, and wallet. Nothing came to mind for a minute, not until he started heading towards the door.

“It’s late. You could sleep on the couch if you want. I don’t mind.” The words came out before her brain could send out warning bells. That was not what she needed to say right then. Seeing the surprise on Bucky’s face, she quickly added “You’re coming back later anyway.” The snow had already stopped, the roads were clear again. She hated that she couldn’t come up with any other reasoning to her embarrassingly transparent words.

Bucky shook his head, turned back to halfway face her and gave a sweet smile. Once again it was forced. She was starting to suspect Bucky smiled when he was uncomfortable. It made her stomach dip low, “Thanks but I don’t have my stuff here. Wouldn’t be able to sleep either. New places and all.” They were perfectly logical reasons. Completely kind. Rejection stung a little bit anyway. He leaned against the wall beside her bathroom door and picked up his boots. Shoved his feet in them one at a time, he clenched his teeth in a grimace when the jerking nagged at his wound.

“Oh ya. I get it.” She covered lamely, twisting her comforter in her fingers. She lifted her feet and tucked them close on the edge of her bed. A part of her suddenly wanted to be swallowed up. Why did she offer that? What if he took it the wrong way? What way had she meant it in the first place? She wrapped her hands around her ankles. Bucky tracked her movements, and she saw a flicker of guilt pass over his face. It was such a short emotion that she second guessed herself after it passed.

Then he walked the rest of the way to her front door. She could just see him past her book shelf, beyond her couch. Footsteps quiet as always, even in the heavy boots. He turned back to look at her again “Thanks for patching me up. I’ll see you tomorrow?” His hand was on the doorknob. Her apartment was dark, only light coming from her lamp, but she could still make out the way he bit his lip, almost nervous.

“Ya, of course. Thanks for… ya know.” Every word they said sounded so awkward. Why did she always say the wrong things? Emotions pressed heavily in her chest. Thank you didn’t feel like enough, but it was all her dumb tongue could shove out.

Bucky nodded “No problem.”

Then he was gone. The door shut quietly, and she flopped back on her bed with a groan.

It had taken her a hell of a lot longer to get there, but she finally curled up under her blankets. There were peas melting on her table. Bloody wipes on her sink. Her lip was bleeding again from her biting it so hard.

She fell asleep in seconds.

***

It was just warm and sunny enough to rationalize a trip to the park. They had only spent an hour in her apartment before realizing drawing just wasn’t happening. Sometimes days like that happened. She mentioned Central Park, and Bucky had just rolled with it.

The grass tickled her wrists where she stretched out on the ground. Sunlight poured down on her, but the earth was cool enough that she didn’t mind. The trees whispered, their leaves falling to the ground. Everything was in full fall splendor. Reds, oranges, and browns mixed with the blue of the sky. It felt like everything was beautiful today.

“Think you can hold that pose?” Bucky asked from beside her. She cracked open an eye to look at him. He had his back against a tree, the broken light dappled across his familiar leather jacket through the leaves. One of his knees was bent, sketchbook balanced on it. Hers rested beside him, ignored. They brought them just in case, but she hadn’t thought she was going to be posing.

She groaned, feigning annoyance, and stared up at the sky dramatically “You’re going to make me pose nooow?” A cloud shaped like a rabbit passed overhead, along with a dolphin. There hadn’t been a threat of snow in almost a week. Not since the night of the Halloween party. Her eye didn’t hurt anymore, but there was an ugly bruise from her cheekbone to her eyebrow.

They hadn’t talked about it beyond in passing. Was she feeling alright? Was his cut infected? Should she file a police report? Yes. No. And no. It didn’t feel like she had enough information to report the guys. Not like they dressed in their respective costumes any other day of the week. And that was what she remembered most about them. Her brain couldn’t bring up any other details about Circus Freak, or Discount Jack Sparrow beyond the names she had started calling them in her head.

Whatever had happened after, in her apartment, hadn’t happened again. It must have been a fluke. Brought on by the heightened stress and emotions of the night. Luckily, Bucky acted like it hadn’t happened at all.

“I’ll be quick. Swear.” There was a smile in his voice. He was already sketching with his pencil. No point trying to stop him now. The need to be annoyed just wouldn’t quite come.

She went to look over at him, and direct a retort, but he cut her off “Don’t move.”

Y/N tilted her face back towards the sun, letting her head drop back. “Yes sir.” She drawled sarcastically.

“You’re just a peach.”

She was surprised he heard her over the squeal of laughter from children further up the hill. They had meandered off the concrete sidewalks and found a spot near the bottom of a soft hill. Families were picnicking at the top, and a group of kids were rolling down it part of the way. Then they dusted themselves off, dizzily stumbled back up and did it all over again.

Days like this were rare. Days where she didn’t feel quite so dissociated from the world around her. Most of the time, she felt like the world was illustrated in pen. All black and white with blotches smearing across her soul. Today was different. Today was a rare day where the colors were bright enough to break through the ink.

The light warmed up her long navy-blue coat. It hung open on her, pooled around her knees, and drifted off the shoulder facing Bucky. The sleeve had slipped when she flopped down to enjoy the sun. A few multicolored leaves floated down around her and crunched under her restless fingers. She had a long cream sweater dress, and black leggings underneath. Her shoulders started to sting a little from resting back on them after several long minutes. One of her knees was pulled up, the other stretched out. She bounced her knee a little impatiently but stayed quiet.

She knew what it was like to get struck with creativity. It even made her preen a little that he got inspiration from her. This was getting easier too, letting him draw her. It didn’t make her quite so nervous anymore. Y/N took in a deep breath, crisp fall air, earth, and the distant smell of hot dogs filled her lungs. Her stomach grumbled a little, reminding her that it was lunch time.

“Told you it wouldn’t take that long.” Bucky finally spoke up, and just to be a brat, she collapsed back theatrically, sprawling out. Very lady like and all. Her fingers closest to him crumbled up some grass and leaves, throwing it sloppily at him. The clump sailed over and landed on his boot.

“I thought I was gonna wither away before you were done!” She cried and could feel just how impressed he was from his intense silence “Seriously! My life was flashing before my eyes. I was gonna starve to death right there. You were about to draw my corpse.” A mischievous grin brought out her dimples as she propped up on her side to peer over at him. She could feel leaves brushing the back of her neck from her coat and brought her hand up to dislodge them. Her fingers threaded through her hair, messing it up and shaking them out.

Bucky blinked at her and shook the grass off his boot with a huff. A disapproving frown met her smile as he closed his sketchbook “Well, guess you wouldn’t wanna see the drawing that nearly risked your life huh?” He pointedly tucked away his pencil and went to sit it carefully beside him.

She perked up and shook her head “No! Come on! Course I wanna see.” She didn’t even bother to stand up, instead, just crawled the few feet between them. Sticks snapped under her knees, and leaves scratched at her palms.

Bucky shook his head, waving a hand at her “No! No. You don’t have to humor me.” He pulled his sketchbook away from her grabby hands, holding it above his head. She could see the smile trying to creep over his face. He leaned further against the tree, bringing up both of his knees like a barrier between them. Determined, he bit at his bottom lip to keep the smile at back and stared up at the swaying treetops instead.

She whined “Aww Buck! Gimme it!” To gain leverage, her torso pressed up against his knees, and she laughed when he batted her hands away. Grass and leaves from her coat fell across his lap with all the jostling, and he tried to brush them off while keeping her back.

“It’s ok. You’re not hurting my feelings.” He mournfully continued, pushing at her shoulder to keep her at bay. The solemn façade was slowly cracking, and she snorted at the pathetic amount of self-pity in his tone, “I know when my work isn’t appreciated. I’ll survive.”

“Please! You know I was just joking.” Huffily, Y/N sat back on her heels, not laying on him anymore. Her palms rested on his knees, knocking them rhythmically together despite his protests. She poked out her bottom lip, giving him her damn best puppy face.

“Don’t lie. Only monsters joke about death.” Bucky stated dryly, and she stopped pouting, gaping at him. Slowly she cocked her head to the side, stilled her hands, and gave him the most pointed ‘you have to be shitting me’ face she could muster. Wind whistled past them and rustled the pages of his sketchbook from where he still held it above his head.

Bucky snorted at first, covering his mouth with his free hand. Then she giggled, and that was all it took for them to collapse into uncontrollable laughter. After the first two minutes, her breaths came in as hard wheezes, and tears threatened to fall from the corner of her eyes. Bucky’s knees shook under her forehead where she had curled forward.

He threw his head back and sagged against the heavy oak behind him. Y/N couldn’t remember a time where she had heard him laugh so hard. And it was stupid. Such a ridiculous, dumb thing to fall apart over. But that was probably why they were wheezing in the first place. They stopped laughing a couple different times, but the moment they looked at each other, they fell into a fit of giggles all over again.

Finally, she was the one to get ahold of herself first. Bucky’s eyes were closed, happy creases along the edges. Even now, his stomach heaved lightly, trying to catch his breath back. In his moment of weakness, she snatched his sketchbook from where he loosely held it at his side. Offended, he protested lightly but didn’t try to wrestle it back from her. Way too proud of herself, she sat back, crossing her legs in front of him. He sat up, mirroring her, and stretched one leg out, his knee pressed to her hip. His other knee he pulled in and supported his elbow on it, chin on his hand. Bucky always watched her when she looked at his art.

She supposed it was because sometimes words lied. Expressions were harder to fake.

Opening the heavy, leather bound book, she flipped through the pages slowly. She hadn’t ever had the opportunity to look through his personal sketchbook. She peaked up at Bucky as she started looking through. Probably should have asked his permission first. Sketchbooks could be private things. He frowned, but then shrugged and nodded for her to go ahead.

“Haven’t had that one very long.” He explained past where his fingers pressed against his mouth. The bruise on his jaw had started to fade yellow.

There weren’t that many drawings. Only about a quarter of it was filled. The first few pages were covered in sketches of a man. Light pencil pictures of his profile, hands, and different loose poses.

“That’s Steve.” Bucky commented after she passed through a couple pages of Steve. Each page was dated with just the month and the year, so she didn’t know how many days were in-between. Dogs barked from somewhere behind her, and she noticed Bucky’s eyes looking somewhere above her head every few minutes.

“He’s handsome.” She replied, smiling a little. And he was. Strong jaw, sweet, open face, and in one picture she could see the broad of his back as he worked over a punching bag. Bucky smirked with a hint of pride, and quickly agreed.

“I’ll let him know you said so.” He chuckled, and then he continued “He bought it for me, so I made sure he got credit by following him around with a pencil for a day. Drove him crazy. He’s shy like that.” Subtly, his voice took on that sweet tone that she noticed belonged to Steve. Sometimes she wondered how close their relationship really ran. It felt like she got to see a different side of Bucky when he talked about his best friend.

The next few pages were random objects. A coffee pot with some foam cups beside it, they had a rose logo. Then a piece of apple pie on a glass table, the light refracted crystal in the table. Vase of flowers. A profile of a girl with dark curly hair and full dark lips. Mystery girl took up the next two pages. Smiling like he had caught her mid conversation. In an apron with her hair back in a messy bun. Nauseously, her stomach dropped a little. The illustrations were beautiful, but she didn’t like them very much.

“My coworker Danielle.” Bucky supplied when she turned the page again and found a full drawing of her pointing at the viewer, yelling. “She’s ruthless when it comes to proper customer service.” He snickered, tapping the photo “I snapped at this pervy asshole that day. Guy had slapped her butt on the way past his table. Somehow, I was the bad guy when I tried to throw him out. Thought she was about to take my head off.” Bucky had drawn her in a somewhat cartoon style there. Exaggerated the foreshortening of her finger, and the angry narrowing of her eyes.

“Hope you took her on a good date to make up for it.” She replied casually, turning to the next page, and subtly gauging his reaction.

Bucky grimaced and gave her a ‘you’re joking right’ face. Surprised, his mouth widened in a smile, and he shook his head “Oh god no. I’m not dating Dannie. She’d eat me alive. Sides, she thinks my whole ‘artist thing’.” He accented his words with air quotes “Is for bums and unrealistic dreamers.” Offended, Y/N frowned, but Bucky brushed it off “Everyone’s got opinions. She was raised by ridiculously old-fashioned parents. Both are surgeons I think.” He smirked, eyes drifting to the sky in thought “She still got all gooey when I gave her a portrait for her birthday.”

There were a few random portraits after that. It was obvious he was practicing a different style. Emphasized an older guys nose, made his eyes small and beady, lost in the wrinkles. Gave a little girl glistening doe eyes, and a little boy a ridiculous gap-toothed smile. “You could seriously do a cool comic if you tried.” Her fingers thumbed the corner stack of the pages absently, making them hum.

He puffed a little under the praise, ego growing right before her eyes. Then, smoothly, he leaned up into her space. His hand brushed by her ear, and she froze. Fingers against her ear, and eyes on her own with a sweet little grin. Pulling back, he presented her with an innocent yellow leaf before flicking it back to the ground “That would be awesome.” Bucky huffed, continuing without a paused “But I don’t have any patience. Plus, I wouldn’t know anything unique to write about.”

Heart sufficiently strained for the day, she tried to ground herself in the conversation at hand. The sketchbook in her lap spoke to how much damn patience he clearly had, but she understood the writing bit. Writing was hard, especially when it felt like there was nothing left in the world to say, “All stories are just remixes of the dictionary.” She helpfully supplied. Then grinned like a cat at the loud groan he released in response to her cheesy line.

Not even responding beyond that, he waved her back to the sketchbook. So, of course, she kept going. A few random still-life drawings. Probably for their first week of class. She even recognized the vase of flowers from her apartment, and her haphazardly piled books on her tall bookshelf. Everything in this sketchbook was done in either ink, or pencil, or a combination of the two.  

With only a few pages left, she propped her cheek on her palm. Only to sit up straighter when she turned the page. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe quite right. Obviously, she knew he drew her for class. He did timed sketches of her in his huge 18x24 sketchpad. Y/N had seen all of those, but she had never seen any of these. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, she bit her tongue, and took the last few pages of the sketchbook in.

Bucky drew her in his cartoon style. It seemed like he used that one when he was drawing for fun, but it was realistic enough that she recognized herself. He caught her in moments that she didn’t really remember. Laughing, smiling, messing around on her phone, drawing in front of her easel, and even holding chopsticks from when they got takeout for dinner. Some were refined in ink, with bold outlines. Others were just messy sketches. Somehow, it had never dawned on her how much little, pointless moments they spent together.

Halfway through, she silently glanced up at Bucky from under her lashes. Couldn’t help but wonder if he had anything to say about all of this. Pointedly, he wouldn’t look at her. He was watching a guy play frisbee with his dog further up the hill to the left. Conveniently seemed quite invested in it too.

The last page made her heart ache in a way she didn’t quite understand. It was the one he just finished. She was propped back on her hands, head towards the sky. A soft, barely there smile on her mouth. She was so relaxed, her hair twisting in the wind with a few leaves falling around her. The shadows were stark, and the light made her profile glow. Across her lightly shut eye, facing towards him, was the unpleasant, detailed bruise. It stood out harshly against her skin, contrasting the rest of the serenity he captured in the moment.

She looked like a survivor. A beautiful, healing survivor.

Y/N knew what it meant to be a victim. Sometimes it was hard to think of herself as anything else. But this. This helped her see things in a completely different way. A preciously, contrasting way. Bucky probably had no idea how much this meant to her.

“Can I have this one?” She asked softly, running a thumb over his signature at the bottom. It was done in ink. Too little too late she realized it was still wet, and that she had blotted it with her thumb. Ink smeared between her thumb and middle finger when she tried to rub it off.

Confused, Bucky finally looked at her “It’s not done.” He replied, pursing his lips. Their gaze met, and he tacked on “But ya. I mean. If you want it.” He took the sketchbook back from her. It wasn’t meant to have pages ripped from it, and she felt a little bad when the paper tore jagged. There was a chewed up strip left behind where the paper used to be. Quickly he pulled his pen back out of his back pocket and tacked something to the bottom beside his signature.

Wind tried to pull the paper out of his hands, but he held it down until he was done. She couldn’t read what he was writing upside down, especially with his hand in the way. The gust disheveled her hair and blew some strands into her eyes. Like it was trying to aid in his secret cause too. Y/N reached over beside him and plucked her own sketchbook off the ground. The cover was smooth and had once been white three months ago. Now, creeping, agonizingly detailed flowers and geometric shapes bloomed from the spine. It was reminiscent of the mandala art style with blossoms and leaves and unnecessarily meticulous ornamentation. Whenever she couldn’t come up with anything to work on, she mindlessly destressed with her personalized sketchbook cover.

With an over-the-top level of reverence, Bucky offered the page out to her. Gently, she smoothed out the edges and then tucked it safely into her own sketchbook before finally reading it.

_To my ridiculous, obnoxious, imperfect muse_

_Thank you_

At first, she was frowning because she couldn’t believe how quickly he ruined sweet things, but then her heart twisted a little funny. His muse. She bit her lip as her stomach fluttered like a humming bird. He called her his muse. A muse was something or someone that fueled creativity. That inspired you. She inspired him. His muse. Just like he was hers. That had to mean something. Or maybe she was just seeing too much into it. Hoping it was something deeper than it was.

Then confusion overpowered everything else “Thank you? What’re you thanking me for?” Y/N stared up at him with furrowed brows as she closed her sketchbook. Sealed the drawing away for later.

Purposefully irritating whenever possible, Bucky shrugged “Just cause.” He cheekily smirked at her, being vague. He enjoyed annoying her. That was written all over his face.

“That’s not an answer.” She tried to keep the irritation out of her tone, but he picked it up. And only smiled wider.

“Sure it is. I can read just cause. Eat just cause. Fool around just cause.” Bucky smirked even more as she frowned harder. Completely, and utterly ruthless in making her suffer. He leaned back and clapped his hands together “Why can’t I thank you just cause I wanna.” Shrugging one shoulder, he snickered at her complete dissatisfaction.

Suddenly it felt like her head was going to explode “Because… because.” She snorted in irritation and rubbed a hand down her face. The sketchbook dropped roughly into her lap as she accusingly pointed a finger at him “Because I know you mean something more from it that you’re just not sayin!”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, eyes twinkling mischievously “You do? Like what?” His full lips tilted up, making his entire face look younger when his dimples showed. The charm fueled into the expression would have normally made her melt, but she was immune to it right now. So, she glowered at him instead.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re welcome.” His reply came out sing-songy, and ironically reminded her of Moana’s Maui in the worst possible way. Bucky stood up with a tired groan and dusted the grass and leaves off himself.

A couple minutes passed in silence as she stared down at her closed sketchbook and peaked up at Bucky, pouting. Unwilling to move from her hunched, sulking position. He was watching something up the hill to the side, wind ruffling his hair with a very minute smile. It was one of those quiet smiles when you don’t expect anyone to be watching. She heard a bark of laughter and followed his line of sight to a kid holding the string of a kite. The father picked up his daughter and started to spin her. The pink kite twitched high up in the sky, dipped a spell, but stayed up.

“We should get something to eat.” Bucky mused, slowly turning to look back down at her. Lazily he bent down to get his sketchbook from by the tree and tucked his it under his arm “I’m starving.”

Y/N climbed up too, protectively crossing her arms to hold her own against her chest “Me too.”

 

 

Another hour passed before they decided to head back to attempt at actually getting some work done. A heavy hotdog and pretzel weighed down her stomach. The wind had quieted down when they left the park, and she stuck close to him as they weaved through to bustling crowd. “I think I want to try using ink.” She pondered “Maybe I could shade your arm better that way.” It was the first she had mentioned of her final project to him. Even though they were spending their time working separately now, they kept with their weekly ritual. Always met up on Fridays and Sundays to tackle their drawings together.

She hadn’t seen his final drawing either. There weren’t too many specifications for the last figure drawing. It had to be on 18x24 Bristol paper. Could be any medium. Had to be of a person, not specifically your drawing partner. And it had to be the best possible figure drawing you could do because it would be one of the pieces in the art show.

“You’ll have to be more careful than with charcoal. The contrast could be good if you don’t go crazy with the lines.” Bucky replied, looking down at her as he talked. Even when he gave her all his attention, he somehow managed to not run into anyone. Must have been some kind of sorcery or spidey-senses. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but his jacket swung open, showing off his Captain America t-shirt underneath.

Thoughtfully she nodded and rubbed the end of her soft sweater between her fingers “Would it be too awkward for me to do a study of just your arm?” This was one of those questions that came out without much of a filter. Usually whenever she was tired or focused too much on her work.

Bucky frowned at her, considering “Want me to just leave it at your house?” He skipped over a spiderwebbed pothole in the sidewalk and didn’t even miss a beat.

A loud bark of laughter escaped her before she could stop herself “God that’s awful! You wouldn’t dare!” She narrowly missed shouldering into a broad man in plaid as she gaped at him. Something akin to morbid fascination tickled her mind as she pictured the metal arm just laying on her coffee table. Like a paper weight.

“What? Too weird?” A Cheshire grin spread across his face, shoe kicking a stray pebble into the street. After a few moments of them walking, her just staring at him in disbelief, he snickered “Aww am I making you uncomfortable?” Now he was walking backwards in front of her. Oddly perfectly. Just swerving past anyone in the way, and never taking his narrowed blue eyes off her face.

Her footsteps came to a stop, but he just kept going, enjoying her reactions. Surprise gave way to annoyance as she realized he was screwing with her, and she jogged a few steps to catch up. Y/N angrily jabbed him in the side with her fingers. Squawking in protest, Bucky jumped and stumbled ungracefully back in surprise, narrowly missing a trashcan.

“I think some people would call that offensive you ass.” She hissed, going to do it again, but he dodged her. When she went in for a third time, he laughed, easily blocked her, squeezing her side in return.

“It’s only offensive if you take it offensively.” Bucky defended, fingers tickling her until she finally squirmed away. Involuntary giggles choked out of her, and she slapped at his arm. Once free, she held up her hands in surrender, face red from the lack of air. They started threateningly at each other, not trusting that one of them would get tickled again, before finally relaxing. A truce.

After another corner they entered a familiar residential area. Only a few blocks from her apartment. The buildings were older here, more worn, and probably held up with duct tape and safety pens. People hung around the outside on the tiny porch steps, and some still walked with them on the sidewalk. Drifting to and from work. Even a couple bike riders swung by, but mostly the crowds were thinning out. They had left behind all the shops, restaurants, and tourist attractions.

Across the street, next to a parked old mustang, a few guys were loudly bickering and swearing. The rusty hood stood open, and one of the men, sprawled on a skateboard, rolled out from under the car and gestured to his buddy. They started the car with a loud rumble. But then it backfired. Piercingly. And choked out with a groan. The crack shot through the air like gunfire and they were close enough that her head started ringing. She clasped a hand over her right ear, closest to the car, and cursed in surprise.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand was tightly around her arm and he yanked hard. Rough with urgency, he shoved past a couple people, making them shout after him. It hurt to keep up with him. Clumsy and stumbling, her shoes scraped against the ground and nearly slipped out from under her. He dragged her for a few dizzying blocks. She tried to protest. Tried to yell at him, but he didn’t listen. It was like he didn’t hear her at all. Then he whipped them into a tight, barely-there ally way between two of the apartment buildings.

Absolutely terrified, he shoved her against the wall behind a dumpster and then bracketed her body with his arms. Her back brutally slammed against the brick. She rubbed at her arm when he finally let it go, and stared up at him, stunned. There was definitely going to be a bruise around her wrist later.

Bucky glanced left, right, and then up. His eyes were wide, and he muttered something that she couldn’t quite make out. Shallow, shaky breaths left his parted lips, and he finally, resolutely turned to stare out the mouth of the ally. Like a man waiting for the devil himself to come around the corner. The leather of his jacket brushed against her arms from where it hung off him, and his chin was nearly resting against the top of her head. Stinking air rolled off the dumpster uncomfortably close to her left. Sticky substances glistened underneath pieces of trash surrounding it, and flies quietly buzzed in the air.

 “What the fuck Bucky?!” She shouted but then he shushed her. Didn’t even look at her when he did. She tried to talk again, but he covered her mouth with his hand. His palm was warm against her. But he only held her for a second. Just long enough to send the message. Then he dropped his hand and pressed a finger to his own lips.

“Shh… we don’t know how many there are. How many klicks away.” Bucky spoke quickly, and still wouldn’t look down at her. She didn’t know what ‘klicks’ meant. Or who ‘they’ were.  “Don’t know what weapons— If they followed…” His words were jumbled, and she could barely make anything out. She felt his breath on her face and saw that his right arm next to her head was shaking. In fact, his entire body was trembling.

“There’s no one out there.” Slowly, she tried to step out from other his arm. Wanted to see what he was talking about, but he caught her shoulder. Snapped her back, gently, against the wall “Keep your head down! They could have goddamn snipers.” On that note, he did look down at her. His eyes were wider than she had ever seen them. Pupils pinned. His face was deathly pale, and a sheen of sweat covered the skin she could see.

With a quick breath he dropped his left arm and reached behind him. Then patted his belt, pushed up his jacket and let out a distressed curse. His sketchbook clattered to the dirty pavement, forgotten. The pages bent up all wrong, “Can’t find my gun. What the fuck did I—”

“Bucky!” Y/N spoke up again, quieter than before but with more urgency. His head snapped up to look at her. Startled. Quickly, she caught his hand from where it was searching his pockets “You don’t need a gun.” He was scaring her, but she tried not to show it. If she let her fear choke her, then he would drown in his. This had to have been some kind of anxiety attack. His chest heaved in quick breaths, but it was like the hidden ally was out of oxygen. Even as she held his hand he was shaking.

“Don’t need… don’t need.” At first his voice was loud, as if he were going to laugh at her, but then it dropped. Dropped to a pained whisper. He pressed his right hand to his forehead and groaned. He didn’t cover her anymore, but his body still loomed over her. His shoulders hunched up to his ears, and he appeared so small. “I-I can’t breathe.” Bucky’s words cracked in the middle. Like he was admitting something shameful.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she let her own sketchbook slid to the ground near her feet. Then touched the back of his head hesitantly, the baby hairs there soft against her fingers. Sometimes when she had a panic attack she didn’t want anyone to touch her. Other times it was the only thing that kept her from floating away. “Bucky. I need you to take a deep breath in ok? You’re safe. I promise. No one’s gonna hurt us.” He pressed his forehead against her shoulder when she subtly pulled him forward. Then fisted his left hand in the soft fabric of her shirt at her hip, removing it from her grip just so he could hold onto her. Despite her words, his entire body shook as he gasped for air. Gurgled whining sounds of distress left the back of his throat.

“I-I can’t. Th-They’re coming. They’re coming a-and they’re…” Something wet seeped through her shirt as he took in a ragged breath, and she felt her own throat starting to burn. There was so much fear. So much hurt coming from him that her heart ached for him. She turned her head down, forehead almost resting against his shoulder in return. Her cheek pressed against his hair and her lips hovered right near his ear.

“You’re safe. It’s ok.” She whispered, afraid even her small platitudes, that she meant with all her being, would scare him. She hoped he accepted them and didn’t seek out the logic. Sometimes comforting nothings didn’t have logic. Just heart. “Please just take a deep breath in. Follow me.” She sucked in a deep breath of air through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. Then did it again, and again. Deliberately counted her breaths in her head.

There was something heavy in reminding someone how to breathe. Breathing was always natural. Until, terrifyingly, it wasn’t anymore. At first, he didn’t follow, and when he tried he hiccupped and stuttered through the first two. With every hiccup he squeezed her shirt tighter. The metal was cold against her side.

But slowly, painfully, he got his breath back. Every other breath deepened and heated up the exposed skin of her neck. Haltingly he sniffled, but the tears still soaked her shoulder. For some reason, it never occurred to her that Bucky Barnes cried. He was too strong to cry. Smiled too much to ever need to cry. She felt like an idiot for assuming that. But the reality hurt more now because she hadn’t believed he could. Her heart hurt in empathy. She knew how much it hurt to cry like this. To cry like the earth beneath your feet was crumbling out. Cry like there’s only inky darkness left, and it’s blotting away every bit of sunshine.

A few of her own finally made their way down her cheeks. She kept breathing evenly and didn’t let on. If he realized she was crying, they might never stop. He sounded so scared. Like he was reliving something. Something awful. Part of her wished she could peak inside his head. Just so she could understand what demons were chasing him. Maybe she could fight them off for him. The rest of her was shamefully glad that she couldn’t.

Even when his breaths slowed down, his shaking didn’t. He mumbled a few more words. Things she only caught in snippets, or that didn’t make sense to her. Bucky stepped even closer, pressing her back completely against the grimy wall, but she didn’t protest. His arm snaked around her waist and he fisted the back of her sweater instead. Right between her shoulder blades. His left leg pushed between hers, and his right bracketed her hip until they were practically flushed together. Slowly, his free hand brushed down her arm against her side, and his palm came to rest against hers. His fingers grazed her own, and she skimmed hers forward until they laced together. Then he squeezed hard enough that it hurt, but she squeezed back as tightly as she could in return.

“So much blood…” His breath hiccupped again over the words, and his voice was raspy. She closed her eyes, and nuzzled her cheek against his, hugging him tighter around the neck.

“Steve won’t come…” A particularly jarring sob followed that one.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She gently reminded, and he shook his head.

“Hurt so much…”

“I can’t. I can’t do it again. I won’t.” Bucky’s words pitched up in anger, as if he was arguing. Demanding someone to understand. Maybe even the universe itself. She ran her hand down his back, and pressed between his shoulders, squeezing.

“You won’t.” Just as strongly, she agreed with him.

Things continued like that for a while. He would speak up intermittently, and she replied with sweet assurances, and anything she could think of to calm him down. Sometimes he denied what she said, but more often he relaxed just a hair more. His damp eyelashes brushed against her neck. Lips against her collar. But, eventually, the words started to die out too.

The grip on her hand loosened but didn’t let go. She rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. Her nails scratched soothingly at his scalp and she ran her fingers through his hair. From his heated forehead back down to the nap of his neck. His hair was soft and cool under her hand.

His shaking eventually ceased too. So much time passed that her back started to ache against the brick. To distract herself, she focused on the smell of leather, the warmth of his chest, and the comfort in just holding him. Even after he quieted down, could breath, and stopped shaking, he stood there for a few minutes longer. The gloved fist against her back dropped first, hand sliding to her hip, and then leaving her all together. Bucky took a deep breath and stepped back. She warily let him go. Nervous, she tugged her sweater back into place with her free hand, but watched him closely, ready to hug him back to her if he broke down again.

Exhausted, Bucky rubbed at his face with his left hand, wiping at his red rimmed eyes and brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. He didn’t look at her for a while and cleared his throat. Sniffed the remaining wetness in his nose. There was a flush across his face, but she didn’t know if he was embarrassed or it just came from crying.

“I’m um— I’m sorry. I just…” He took another long breath and sighed harshly. Bucky’s eyes skated across the ground, not looking anywhere in particular. Just avoiding looking at her.

“It’s ok.” She reassured quickly, squeezing his hand. His gaze snapped to their hands, as if he was noticing for the first time. The air smelt sourer without the scent of leather protecting her nose from the rotting trash.

Brusquely, he pulled his hand back and tucked both into his pockets “No. It’s not. I could have hurt you. When… when I get like that. It’s like…” He waved a hand around his head and rolled his eyes, tension building in his spine “I’m back in the fucking trenches, and I can’t. I can’t see. Can’t control.” He growled and took another three steps from her. Back almost to the opposite wall now, his muscles rigid like he wanted to fight something. But there was no one else there but the two of them. She pushed off from the wall, staying quiet in hopes that he would finish.

That maybe she could piece together what he was trying to say.

“A-And around you.” He thrust an angry hand in her direction, “I’m crazy when I’m like that. I didn’t think that happened anymore.” Bucky looked so upset with himself. He kicked at a can, sending it loudly sliding across the pavement. Concerned, she took a step forward, reaching out for his hand. Just so she could hold it, maybe help “Don’t touch me!” He snapped, turning on her with so much vehemence that she visibly recoiled. He jerked back from her in turn.

Utterly scolded, she stumbled three steps back, and crunched his forgotten pencil under her shoe. It snapped in two, and she cringed even more at the sound. Winced at the stinging hurt in her chest from him yelling. Her shirt was still soaked from his tears. Had she really been holding him just a minute ago?

He barely even registered the broken pencil, hand dropping from the air. They stared at each other in surprise. Surprised that he had yelled at her. Surprised that she had thought he might strike her. Just surprised. Or maybe horrified. Sorrow made his shoulders sag, but then he shook it off and stepped towards the entrance of the ally, “Don’t… don’t touch me.” He whispered firmly, hands back in his pockets and head down. Then he completely turned away from her and started to stride quickly out of the ally.

Alone, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and took deep calming breaths of her own. Her fingertips were cold and going numb. Panic of her own creeped up in her chest. She didn’t think he would hurt her. Didn’t want to think he would hurt her.

But he was so angry.  
And it had triggered something inside of her. A part of her that remembered the hurt an angry man could do.

She slowly crouched down and picked her sketchbook off the ground. Gently she used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe off the dampness. It took a minute to get the smeared grim off the cover. Bucky’s was laying, pages still splayed open, on the dirty pavement an arms-length away. She scooped it up too and smoothed out the paper with care. Some dirt stained the sheets, and she cleaned it off the best she could.

She had to get to him.

At least give his sketchbook back.

With that thought in mind, she slowly stood up, and took a few paces around the dumpster. Would he snap at her again if she caught up to him?

Did it really matter? He hadn’t meant to scare her. Hadn’t meant to hurt her. He was just scared. It wasn’t much of an excuse. There was no excuse for him yelling at her.

But if she let him leave like this. Let him leave angry. No good would come of it.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed the lump in her throat. Today couldn’t end like this. She wouldn’t let it.

Before she completely realized where she was going, she ran.

Her legs pumped underneath her as she bolted out of the ally. She whipped her head back and forth both ways, trying to see where he went. She caught him, across the street, walking quickly in the opposite direction, away from her apartment. The air was crisp and cold in her throat.

Shoving off the sidewalk, she trotted hastily across the road. Luckily the cars were going slow for crazy pedestrians just like her. Bucky rounded the corner just as she reached the other sidewalk. She kept going. People yelled at her to slow down. To watch out. She hopped around lamp posts, and avoided barking dogs, and bikes, and didn’t slow down until she could see him again. Her legs started to burn, and her hair flew wildly behind her.

“Bucky!” She shouted, finally close enough for him to hear her. A few other people stopped, confused by her outburst, but she didn’t pay them any attention. Her eyes were focused on the man in leather.

He stopped but didn’t turn around right away. His shoulders hunched up near his ears, hands in fists at his sides. She skidded to a stop behind him, a little out of breath. “Y-You forgot your sketchbook.” She didn’t reach out for him. Didn’t try to touch him and make him turn around. But god she wanted to. Hesitantly, she took a few steps closer, now within reach.

Reluctantly, he finally turned, and stared at her with a vacant, cold expression. His mouth was tight, eyes unreadable, and spine straight. She hadn’t seen him look at her like that since their first days together. Undeterred, she held his sketchbook out to him like a peace offering. “I didn’t want you missing it.” She added when his answering silence started to pile on her anxiety.

Bucky took it from her and dusted some of the grim off the black cover. His eyes stayed on the book in his hands, ignoring her again. The sun caught in his hair, reflecting copper, and highlighted his steady frown. His strong jaw was tight, and he looked so tall and foreboding to her now. He made her feel small. A few too-long seconds passed, but he didn’t say anything. Even with her own silence imploring him to.

It was a heavy silence. Filled with too many questions. Not enough answers. Too much hurt. And she didn’t know what to say. What could she possibly say to make it better? She didn’t know anything about war. Didn’t know anything about PTSD. Barely knew him well enough to justify that he would never have hurt her like he thought he would. That he wasn’t crazy like he thought.

All she knew was that she couldn’t let him leave like this. That in a different way from him, she could understand trauma. Even if she couldn’t tell him why she did. She understood hurt and panic. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and chewed on the inside of her cheek. This just didn’t sit well with her, and she wanted, no needed, to make him feel better. She was scared. Not that he would hit her. Not that he would hurt her. Or yell at her. She was terrified that he may never talk to her again if she let him walk away.

“Thanks.” Bucky finally mustered. He held the book up, nodding towards it without a hint of a smile. Then he turned, starting to walk away again. His shadow stretched long behind him in the beginnings of late evening. It touched her shoes. The chiming of a bike went by, and someone’s car alarm a street over started to scream. She took a desperate step forward, throat closing.

“I’ll take you up on it.” Y/N called and winced at the pitch of desperation in her tone. She paced forward just a breath closer, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Bucky paused, back to her yet again. Slowly, he turned his head, over his shoulder, in obvious surprise “What?” He stepped to the side, still facing a little away, probably in hopes of leaving any second.

“Borrowing your arm.” Her entire face felt hot, and she tried to smile past her embarrassment “If you’ll let me.” When he didn’t seem to register what she was saying, she haltingly elaborated “For the study. For my drawing. So, I um… get the anatomy right. That way you don’t have to hang around my apartment anymore.” Her sketchbook hung in front of her like a shield in her hands, low but ready to snap up and protect her if necessary. She anxiously thumbed at one of the corners, letting it bite into her skin.

The very moment it dawned on him what she was saying, he shook his head and reluctantly, just barely, smiled. “Wow… I can’t believe you just went there.” Bucky snorted incredulously and bit his bottom lip. It was like he was fighting with himself. Fighting to not give into her. Fighting to still walk away from her and put whatever distance between them that he thought was necessary.

“It just seems like the fair thing.” She continued, hating herself for feeding into this awful joke. It felt more offensive than before because she was now the one making it, “You got your drawing in today, but you haven’t posed for me. Now you’re going home, and well, I need to do something.” Y/N gave a half-aborted shrug.

“I’m sure your do.” Bucky eyed her, a bit of warmth seeping into his face again. “Well since it’s only fair.” He tucked his sketchbook under his right arm, and then reached up for the shoulder of his left “I’ll just—”

“Oh my god don’t you dare!” She shouted, hand reaching up in the air to stop him. Even though she had no idea how she possibly would. Images of him pushing some button and then he metal arm just falling to the ground flashed horrifically before her eyes.

Bucky reluctantly snickered then. His gloved hand covered his mouth, and his eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t his biggest laugh, in fact it was pretty weak, but it was sweet. The sound melted away some of the ice between them. Let her see through a small crack in the wall he was trying to seal up. “I’m kidding. God I couldn’t get it off in the middle of the street.” Somehow the innuendo of that statement sounded more preferable than the idea of him taking off a limb “Do you know how complicated this damn thing is?” He asked, gesturing to his covered arm. Rightfully, he was staring at her like she was an idiot.

She blushed more, and sniffed indignantly “Well… no.” Her hand dropped from her aborted attempt at stopping him, and she looked away, her ears burning.

He rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them with a huff. Hesitantly, he stood in front of her, almost like he wanted to do, or say something. His hand reached up from his side, but then dropped. His mouth opened only to close again, and he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. For a minute she thought he might hug her, or that she might hug him.

The minute passed, then he just knocked his arm against hers as he stepped past her. He started marching back the way they had come. Back towards her apartment. “Come on. I’ll just take off my shirt and you’ll have to draw it with me attached.” Bucky called, haughtily, not even making sure she was following him.

She watched him walk ahead of her for a minute, stunned once again. Now it was like nothing had happened. Again. How many things were piling up that they kept ignoring? She had to skip a little to catch back up “Can you show me how it actually comes off?” She teased, grinning at him once she reached his side. She swung her sketchbook happily beside her.

Bucky flicked her temple for her troubles, “Hell no. That’s top-secret stuff there.” Their combined shadows stretched out in front of them, twisting together as they made their way.

She laughed despite the throbbing pain now in her temple.  
Metal flicks hurt more than normal ones.


	3. Watercolor Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with the the segment on figure drawing, she thought she could relax. Watercolor had always been fun for her, but nothing ever came easily. Especially after Bucky came into her life. There was always something new with him that kept her head spinning. And heart aching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one giant chapter, I ended up breaking it up into 2. That’s why it took so long to get it done. Sorry for the wait!  
> Feedback helps me keep going. So please let me know what you think!
> 
> You can also read this on Tumblr, and see the banner: [Here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/177787589083/your-colors-ch3)

It was raining outside. A slushy mix of rain and snow. Freezing more as the temperature swiftly dropped. The pattering beat echoed throughout the studio, along with the occasional crash of thunder. Y/N really needed to leave, but he hadn’t said anything yet. Class ended five minutes ago, but he was still silently standing in front of her final. It was displayed on its very own easel at the front of the room. Framed, and exposed for the first time.

Part of her still couldn’t believe that she had managed to finish it. The headache pounding behind her eyes and, obnoxiously, tall thermos of coffee sitting on her desk, reminded her that it wasn’t an easy accomplishment. Three days of straight, grueling work. After her study of Bucky’s arm on Friday, she drew like a whirlwind of crazy. Even dragged her project to the library during work and inked in details between helping customers.

They had agreed to keep their finals a surprise. It was kind of like a competition. Despite having seen every other piece up to this point, it was fun to try and surprise him.

Now she was starting to wonder if she had surprised him a little too much.

When Y/N got up in the front of the class to talk about the project, she was too nervous to look at him. She focused solely on her teacher, and answered everyone’s questions about her motivation, inspiration, and why she did what she did. It happened so fast that she had completely missed his reaction. After she went back to where she had been standing beside him, she kept glancing over to him for any response. She didn’t want to interrupt the next presenter, so she stayed quiet. All he offered her, when he noticed her looking, was a small smile and soft whisper of ‘Good job’ against her ear.

That wasn’t what she had been looking for.

Bucky had gone a few presentations after her, and she still couldn’t get over how damned talented he was.

 

_Bucky didn’t appear the least bit nervous when he got up in front of everyone. He was confident, at ease, and put on his million-watt smile that she could only assume came from working in customer service. It was a pretty stark contrast to his normally quiet, reserved nature when he was in class. She noticed a couple of the other students seemed a bit surprised at the difference._

_Carefully, he pulled his framed piece out of its black carrying case and placed it on his easel. For a few minutes he stood beside it quietly. Tall and broad in his long-sleeved plaid shirt, and dark washed jeans. Hair perfectly tussled. Naturally, he was handsome, and sharp even in simple clothes._

_Y/N gathered around with the rest of the class in a semi-circle at the front of the room. Mr. Ramsey took critiquing seriously and made sure everyone participated. Her heart stopped as she stared at the beautifully illustrated charcoal piece. It was of a woman. Cropped to focus on her torso, and the little baby she held in her arms. She was smiling sweetly down at her child and didn’t seem to even notice the viewer. The shadows were deep to accent the halo glow coming from the subjects, and it almost looked like a photograph._

_Right then, she knew this had to be Bucky’s mother. Y/N didn’t know much about her. He only ever spoke about her once, when she talked about her own. All she knew was that his mother had died when he was twelve. Left his father behind to raise one son and a daughter._

_After a couple quiet minutes of everyone taking the picture in, Mr. Ramsey finally spoke up “Obviously this is a beautiful piece. Why don’t you tell us a bit about it? Where you got the idea, why you chose charcoal, and what was the hardest part?”_

_Bucky shifted his feet, folding his hands in front of him as he peeked over at the drawing thoughtfully “Um… I think the hardest part was choosing to draw her at all. I haven’t seen my mom since I was little. So, it’s hard to remember her. I wanted to do something that made me have to think about her. Made me feel closer to her. And while working on this, I started to remember her a little better.” He smiled sadly, and cleared his throat, studying his peers. Nervousness hidden just below the surface. She didn’t think anyone else even noticed how tense he was._

_Y/N met his eyes and gestured encouragingly for him to continue. Bucky gave her a grateful nod in return and spoke back up “This was something I’ve been putting off for a while. I just haven’t had the guts to really work on it. Until lately.” He stared at her pointedly then, and she wondered if this was one of the things he had thanked her for before. She wasn’t sure what she did to give him courage, but, if she did, she was glad._

 

Of course, when Mr. Ramsey had went around asking for critics, and opinions, she was first in line to give Bucky an earful. Pointedly gave an in-depth critic with things he might have done differently, but mostly with heartfelt compliments. A courtesy he hadn’t given to her.

Slowly, she shouldered her backpack and finally decided to just approach him. He hadn’t moved, but most of the class was gone. Leaving them alone with Ramsey in the back, writing reports for each project. She weaved her way through the series of desks and stepped up to his left. A line of easels stood side by side. Each held a different student’s work. They formed a line in front of the marker board that Mr. Ramsey sometimes used. It took up the entire front wall. There were still instructions left up there for their watercolor homework. They were supposed to practice with backgrounds.

Her easel was closer to the right, near the door. Coming to stand beside him, she surveyed her work for the millionth time. Ink had ended up being the final medium. She knew it would after practicing his arm in it a couple times. The drawing was like the sketch of him in her window. Same facial expression. Same bared arm, but he was wearing a ripped white shirt. His jaw was bruised, and he was lounging on her couch. One leg propped up against the armrest, the other off on the floor, right arm draped against the back of the couch, and metal one casually holding a glass of coke near his mouth. Shirt bloody, pants dirty, and hair absolutely wrecked. His bright eyes were on the viewer. Once again daring them to look.

It was a mixture of different poses she had done of him. When asked why she chose this, she had answered “I wanted to draw something human. Something that people could relate to in a million different ways.” It was more than that, of course. An emotional artist at heart, this piece also helped her vent out everything from that night. All the hurt and fear poured out into every single black line.

“So, something human?” Bucky’s voice jarred her from her stupor. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as he continued, “You really think people can relate to a guy with a mechanical limb?” He turned his head, eyes flickering between her face and the drawing.

She shuffled the warm thermos in her hands and nodded “Ya, I do. Being human hurts. Everyone loses something while experiencing it. Doesn’t have to be a limb.” She swallowed again, and finally looked at him as she spoke. Her voice was soft but strong, determined to make her point. He was staring at her intently, arms crossed. His bag hung across his chest, resting on his hip. “Different people lose different things. Their confidence, creativity, someone they loved, or even their heart. Doesn’t always equal out to the same hurt. But it’s still painful.”

“No one can completely lose their heart.” Bucky mused, and he was smiling, but it was such a sad smile. It highlighted the tired shadows under his eyes. She could feel a mirroring one on her face “Just takes a while to come back when it’s been hurt.”

Part of her yearned for him to be right. But she had been waiting for her own to come back for a long time. Even if it did, she didn’t know if she would trust to ever let someone have it again. Sometimes, in the quiet moments at night when she couldn’t sleep, it didn’t feel like she even had a heartbeat. Instead, a heavy void pressed down inside her ribcage. All consuming.

Bucky let out a loud raspberry, smacking his lips together. Then waved to the drawing, hand slapping against his leg as he dropped his arm “Well! It’s beautiful.” He laughed loudly, breaking up the tension “Best damn picture I’ve ever seen of myself.”

Y/N smiled wider, the air feeling lighter. It was easier to breathe, “Ya think so? Cause, well, your chin was a bitch.” She grinned as the familiar joke left her, and thumbed open her thermos, taking a drink of the coffee. It was still hot. The heat curled soothingly in her stomach and the smell of coffee comforted her.

Ramsey’s unamused glare burned the back of her neck. Probably wanted them to leave him in peace and quiet. She ignored him. Heat blew down from the vent above them, spurred on by the cold pressing against the brick outside. She fussed with her zipper, closing up her jacket with one hand, balancing her thermos in the other.

Pouting, he rubbed at his chin and then chuckled, wagging a finger at her “Don’t lie. You love it.” His eyes were warm and sweet. Familiar. When had Bucky’s smile start to feel familiar?

Just as she was about to respond, her eyes caught the time above the marker board “Oh shit I’m late.” Y/N was supposed to be at work no later than 4:40. It was ticking towards 4:30, and she had to get back to the school. Which was a 30-minute drive, longer with bad traffic. They were in Brooklyn. Orion was all the way over, across the bridge, in Midtown.

Hail had started pounding down from the clouds when she wasn’t paying attention. Just her luck. White dots started to collect on the roof, visible from the window to her left. It was supposed to snow later that night. Bucky helpfully snickered “I hope you boss is nice or your so screwed.” He followed her as she rushed out of the room and skipped the elevator all together.

The door to the stairway banged open at the force she shoved at it. She took the stairs two at a time with Bucky on her heels, “Katlin is going to kill me. She’s gotta get her daughter from practice.” Y/N groaned and glanced over her shoulder to glare at Bucky “This is all your fault!”

“What’d I do??” He gaped at her, as she turned the corner onto the next flight. Bucky’s footsteps were lighter than hers, but still echoed when he jumped to the landing behind her. Managing to keep up despite her going as fast as she could.

“If you had just told me what you thought! Instead of mysteriously gazing at my damn drawing! Then I wouldn’t have waited around for you to say something!” She huffed, reaching the last landing, and turning to gauge his reaction. She was already late. What did a few more minutes matter? Y/n’s chest heaved in both frustration and from running down so many stairs. Her free hand still held the railing, the other hugging her coffee to her chest.

Bucky stopped two steps from the bottom, and started laughing “Mysteriously? What? You’re the one that didn’t ask! I told you ‘Good Job’!” He waved a hand at her, shaking his head as if this entire thing was ridiculous. It was a little, but she barreled on.

“Oh cause ‘Good Job Pal’ is a worthwhile answer! You didn’t even tell me how you felt about it!” She wasn’t really mad. Not really, really mad, but she was irritated. Over the weather, and work, and maybe a little because he was so damn vague all the time. They could talk about nothing for hours, but if anything weighted came up he changed the subject. It didn’t help that he was laughing at her. Besides, she spent hours trying to make it perfect. Trying to draw him with the care he deserved.

Maybe he didn’t deserve it after all.

 Confused, he stuffed one hand in his pocket, and the other on his bulky bag against his hip. He spoke her name sharply in disbelief, it ricocheted in the empty corridor “I thought you knew by now that your art is amazing. That I think it’s amazing. You’re able to make people feel things. Able to see things most don’t see.” His voice softened towards the end in the confession and he took another step down. She took a step back in return, letting go of the rail “Your anatomy was good. The shading was awesome.” He snorted, shaking his head “There’s not much I could critic except maybe the bloody shirt was a bit much. Considerin’ everything else you’ve got going on in there. But that’s just my opinion.”

The silence that followed his words left her heart pounding. Maybe it was alive, but she only ever got proof when Bucky was around. Scarlet crawled across her cheeks and burned her ears from how closely he was studying her. He raised his eyebrows with a clear ‘happy now?’ expression. She smiled nervously “Ya, but I couldn’t get it outta my head after that night, so I had to put it down somewhere.”

He jabbed his finger at her “See? Now I get it.” He took the last stair down to meet her and sighed sharply. As if with a heavy heart, he slung an arm over her shoulder in a half-hug “You shouldn’t need me to tell you how talented you are. You shouldn’t be able to forget it.”

Bucky hadn’t done this to her since that night either. Hadn’t wrapped an arm over her shoulder, playfully or otherwise. It made her feel warm. Like it was spring instead of winter, “It doesn’t hurt to hear.” She muttered, head down as he led them towards the entrance of the museum “I don’t always like what I do. I know I could do better.”

“Everyone can always do better.”

 

 

The air outside was damp and cold. Hail littered the walkway, but it was starting to give way to snow. So at least she wouldn’t have to deal with being soaked and battered. Bucky didn’t remove his arm as they hurried towards the main road. Both were scanning for a taxi. Y/N was grateful for the extra warmth and protection from the biting wind. She tugged the sleeves of her jacket down over her fingers and kept her head ducked down. Should have worn something heavier. Instead of dwelling on her horrible self-esteem issues, she tried to change the subject.

“Got any plans tonight?” She asked over the howling of the wind, curling into Bucky’s hold to avoid the small bit of hail coming down with the snow. Her hair whipped around her face, and she tugged a strand out of her mouth. Snow clung to her eyelashes and very little sun got through the dark overhanging clouds. It was almost like nighttime came early.

He raised his hand, distractedly waving over a taxi. They stood at the very edge of the sidewalk, the toes of Bucky’s scuffed boots hanging over the edge, “Ya, I need to get home. A friend of mine’s coming over. Was gonna take her out, but since the weather’s actin’ up, I figure I’ll make her something for dinner. She’d probably like that better anyway.” He grinned when a taxi finally took notice of them and squeezed her shoulder.

Y/N felt her heart drop towards her stomach, suddenly very curious about Bucky’s apparent friend. A girl. Who he was willing to cook dinner for. She pressed her lips together and felt a little colder. Like the snow was soaking through her jacket but maybe she wasn’t imagining that.

As the taxi pulled over he asked, staring down at her “Do you mind sharing? My apartments on the way.” He gave a sheepish smile, the cold making his nose light pink. Bucky looked cute anyway. His hood was up on his jacket under his heavier coat. The hood made his hair press closer to his face and his eyes were a pristine wintery blue, reflecting the snow.

She shook her head and Bucky held the door open for her. Then climbed in behind her. He leaned forward and gave the address of his apartment, and then tacked on her college, the Orion Institute. She had never seen where Bucky lived. Not once in the entire time they spent meeting for their projects. They always met at her place. A part of her was excited to even just see his building.

They didn’t live that far apart. Bucky’s apartment was in Brooklyn Heights, less than 30 minutes from her apartment in Midtown. It only seemed far because of traffic. She lived within walking distance of the Orion Institute and only a mile from Central Park.

The taxi pulled away from the curb, navigating smoothly between a few cars in the road, “You make dinner for her often?” Y/N asked, settling back in her seat and running a hand through her tangled hair. Using the tie on her wrist, she pulled the damp mass back out of her face, watching Bucky plop his bag on the floor between his feet. He dusted snow off his coat and shoved his hoodie down.

“Not really. She’s just in town visiting her folks. Used to make her dinner all the time when we were dating.” He smiled wistfully, remembering something sweet. Then he shrugged, and the smile vanished “But that was a long time ago.” The windshield wipers ticked loudly up front and the soft crooning of the radio on an older jazz station drifted from the speakers. Heat made it back to them from the front and she rubbed her frosty fingers together.

Heart suddenly heavy, Y/N turned in the seat to look at him closer. She tucked her knee up onto the leather and fiddled with the material of her jeans. Carefully, she adjusted her bag, propping it on her thighs “So you’re still close?” Snow melted through the sleeves of her coat and carried the scent of winter with it. It just made her colder, despite the dry heat from the taxi.

Bucky pursed his lips thoughtfully “Kinda? I mean, me and Dot have always been pretty close. We don’t see each other much since she lives in Chicago now, but we hangout when she comes by. It’s always nice to catch up.” He shook some of the melting snow out of his hair, making it spike up. Gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Bucky seemed a little tense, talking about Dot. He made eye contact but was slow as he spoke. Picking his words carefully.

“Do you still like her?” That was probably one of the more personal questions she had outright asked him since knowing him. It made anxiety tighten in her throat. He had never mentioned any relationships to her before. Y/N kind of assumed he was single, based on never talking about a girl or drawing any mystery girls. Maybe she was wrong. She bit her tongue when Bucky scoffed.

“Like, like-like her?” He teased, snorting, and then looking out the window. He propped his elbow up on the door and put his chin on his hand. Water dripped down the glass as he turned his attention to the world outside “It’s more complicated than that.” He finally answered, voice quiet and far off. A car honked as it passed, and the snow was still coming down heavily. It made the scenery fuzzy. Almost ethereal. At least the pattering of hail had subsided. Just snow now.

“How?” She pried, curiosity biting at her. Her stomach pinched unpleasantly. Bucky had an ex-girlfriend who lived several hours away but came to visit him. Visit her family, too, but they were still in contact enough that he cooked dinner for her sometimes. And still considered himself close to her.

Bucky huffed, and pulled out his phone, fidgeting with it. The screen lit up, but he didn’t mess with it long enough to do more than maybe check a text before he locked the screen again. Jerkily, he dropped it into his lap and peered over at her before staring up at the questionably stained ceiling, “Complicated like. Like we were going to get married. But then I went overseas. And she didn’t wait.” He was steadily getting more agitated, and she belatedly realized that she probably stumbled on a button. He glared at the ceiling and then back down at his phone. Anywhere but her.

Part of her screamed to back track and change the subject. The rest of her was echoing with the realization that he was almost married. Y/N swallowed back the nervous lump in her throat and squeezed her fingers into fists. They were still cold, and the driver’s heavy cologne was starting to make her nauseous. She forced herself to watch Bucky’s reactions. So that maybe she could fill in the blanks of what he wasn’t saying.

“So, you still wanna be with her?” She asked gently, hoping to maybe not piss him off beyond all hope. Her hands played with her bag, twisting at one of the front zippers. A pencil dug at her thigh from the bottom of the bag. Managing to sting through the patterned material. She shifted the bottom, making the pencil move.

Bucky froze, frowning down at his phone. He didn’t speak up for a bit, but eventually laughed softly. It wasn’t a warm laugh, “Sometimes, I guess so.” He peeked up, smiling at her. A disheartened smile. His damp bangs fell in his steel-blue eyes, “But even if I wanted to. Even if she wanted to. It probably wouldn’t work anyway.” Bucky tapped at his temple and shrugged, looking like something heavy weighed down on his back “Not with the mess that’s up here now. I’m not really the relationship kinda guy anymore.” He stared deliberately down at his hands again, and she almost missed the last little bit he muttered, more to himself than her “Wouldn’t wanna make any girl deal with my mess.”

A few minutes passed where she tried to collect her thoughts. Tried to filter through all the snippets of things she wanted to say. Finally, she stared resolutely at his profile. Willing him to look back at her. The colorful city lights refracted through the melting snowdrops, casting shifting shadows across his body. His eyebrows were drawn together, deep in thought, as he stared down at his black phone screen, “Bucky.” He tensed at first, but then slowly glanced up at her. Reluctantly, as if afraid of what she was going to say. Obviously, he was uncomfortable, but she couldn’t imagine what was going through his head.

The car was slowing to a stop, breaks squeaking in protest. They were in front of an older apartment building now. A few people milled around outside in the snow. It was covered in brick and wilted ivy. The windows were small, other buildings hugging it on either side, but it was pretty, covered in snow and ice. He needed to leave, “You deserve to be happy.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, stubbornly silent. His blank expression gave nothing away. She pursed her lips, forcing her tangled web of anxiety down, “And you shouldn’t stop yourself from being happy cause you’re afraid of being a problem for someone else. You’re not a problem.” None of her words were coming out right. They all sounded better in her head. She was so afraid of showing too much of her hand. Letting him see the feelings that were just starting to become a delicate, flower bud inside of her. Something small and new that she just didn’t want anyone to see yet.

“This is sweet and all, but the meter is still runnin. I’m not gonna stop it ‘cause you two lovebirds need relationship therapy. Are you getting out or not?” The cab driver called from the front, voice harsh and loud in the tense quiet that fell after she stopped talking. She glanced up at him, taking in his black beanie and the white snippets of hair that stuck haphazardly out from under it. Her heart pounded, and her body flushed in embarrassment.

It was easy to forget that someone else could be listening.

Bucky jerked, caught off guard and scowled for a minute. He pointedly looked at her and rolled his eyes. Then turned and met the driver’s glare through the rearview mirror. The smile he offered was charming as usual, and he sheepishly apologized, “Sorry just give us a minute alright?” He leaned forward and dug a few 20s out of his wallet, handing them to the guy. That covered far more than just his ride. She knew better than to argue with him on it, though.

Then he faced her again, and Y/N could barely keep her breathing even. She wanted to know what he was about to say but she was scared. Scared that he would argue with her, or that he would see past everything. See the emerging feelings that she kept pushing down. She didn’t want him to know. Barely wanted to admit to anything herself. The budding rose in her heart felt like it was tightening its thorny vines around her lungs.

Before he could speak, there was a knock on the window behind him. Y/N jumped, startled. Bucky let out the breath he just took in to speak. Then tilted his head over his shoulder, annoyed, only for his face to brighten into a warm smile. A young woman was standing there. She had a brown fuzzy hood up to protect her from the snow, but Y/N could see firy red hair underneath it. Bucky chuckled affectionately “Goddamn impatient woman.” He picked up his bag and climbed out. Completely forgetting about whatever he was going to say.

Completely forgetting about her too, it seemed.

Bucky gave the woman a tight hug and talked quickly to her. Voice carried off by the wind. His door hung open, letting in the icy air. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. All she could think about was how pretty Dot was.

After a couple long minutes, Bucky leaned back in with a bright grin “I’ll see you Thursday ok?” His hand was resting on the top of the open door. Snow clung to his hair and his cheeks were chapped pink from the cold again.

“Ya, have fun.” Y/N replied lamely, forcing the biggest smile she could muster. She hugged her bag as hard as she could. Then hugged it harder when Dot’s hand touched his shoulder, drawing his attention back. So hard that the supplies inside hurt her chest. The pencil dug into her stomach this time. She didn’t care.

Bucky nodded distractedly, and let go of the door, stepping back. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore, “Ya sure. Have fun with all your books!” He called as he shut the door. It echoed loudly in the quiet. The car pulled away immediately. She stared at the space he used to be, ears ringing.

Annoyed, the driver turned up the heater and grumbled about Bucky letting all the heat out of the car. The heater sputtered nosily. Then he spitefully turned up the radio. Shifting, she placed both feet back on the floor, and shoved her backpack over where Bucky had been sitting. Numbly, she picked her thermos off the ground. The coffee was lukewarm, but she sipped at it anyway.

She ignored the driver, only muttering out an apology that she doubt he heard over all the noise. Sinking low into her seat, she watched the world pass outside, and tugged out her phone. She messaged Katlin an apology for being late. Let her know when she would be arriving.

As the taxi passed under a stoplight, heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge, the glowing green light reflected over her hands. The color reminded her of spring leaves. Distantly, she wondered what Bucky had been about to say. If only he hadn’t been pulled away.

Inside of her chest, Y/N imagined the rosebud sinking back into the soil. Where it would remain dormant and alone.

*****

The tip of her brush dipped into the water, and she let the bristles stroke across the top of her drawing. Pale blue pigment for the river bled down and pooled along the line of dry paper she created. It became a gradient, light at the top and dark at the bottom where most of the shadows in the creek were. She lifted the drawing board that her paper was taped to, keeping it from buckling. Carefully, she tipped the board so that the water flowed where she wanted to. Distributing the paint and giving the surface of the stream a textured look to it.

After a minute, Y/N sat the board down and glanced at the copy of the painting they were recreating. The landscape was created by David Taylor and called _‘Catching the Morning Light’_. It was a simple creek surrounded by grass and trees with a faded background. Impressionistic in style and rich in contrast. All they had to do for class was recreate the painting to the best of their ability.

She sat the board back down and stretched her back. It cracked over her chair and she sighed in relief. Shifting a little, she tried to find a comfortable position for her numb butt on the hard chair. Then, she clicked through her phone, checking her messages and debating taking a break to get a snack from a vending machine downstairs.

Beside her, Y/N heard a frustrated sigh, followed by the clinking of a brush against glass. Aggressively, Bucky rinsed out his brush, nearly splashing out the water. She watched him from her peripheral as he held his brush over his pallet of paint, glaring at the colors. As if they personally offended him. Bucky scoffed, roughly dropping the brush back down on his desk.

They hadn’t talked much since Monday. Today was, finally, Thursday. She wanted to text him but didn’t want to bug him. Wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. It felt like she might have done something wrong when he replied to the few texts she did send with short responses. But she couldn’t think of anything she did to piss him off. Normally, Bucky would be straight forward with her if he was mad about something. Especially, if it was something she did.

So, she just stopped texting him. And he didn’t text her either.  
Now she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or concerned.

Bucky put his head in his hands and pulled his phone out. He clicked through it for a couple of seconds. Y/N watched as his shoulders bunched up and his jaw clenched. Since he sat down beside her that afternoon, he hadn’t spoken to her beyond a greeting. Then a couple snarky remarks about their project.

He wasn’t much of a watercolor kind of guy. She could tell. He understood the techniques. Understood, for the most part, how to apply them, but he had no love for the medium. No passion for it. Unlike her.

Y/N loved watercolor. It was easy because there wasn’t much need for precise control. It’s meant to be messy, for the most part. Didn’t have to be completely realistic and perfect. The colors would blend together beautifully and created amazing textures just about on their own.

The screeching of a chair against tile made her jump. Her brush nearly smudged the bundle of trees in the background all wrong. Bucky brusquely stood from his seat and stalked out of the room. Despite the door shutting quietly behind him, it felt like a slam. All the soft murmuring of conversation died instantly. The older woman, Hannah, sitting next to her stared at her questioningly. Y/N shrugged and shook her head.

She wanted to go after him but resisted the urge.

For 10 minutes.

It took all her self-control to focus back on her work. She got in a couple strokes for the silhouettes of the far-off trees but every few minutes she peeked at the door. Rhythmically, she tapped the edge of her brush against her scuffed desk. Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s painting. They had been working for about an hour now, but he barely even had a wet wash of color down. Only an outline of the creek, and a few splotches of color that she didn’t quite understand the purpose of.

Definitely not his best work.

Giving up, Y/N stood quietly from her desk. She placed her brush down carefully in its holder and tucked her phone in her back pocket.  Some of the students stared at her, but she ignored them as she made her way to the teacher’s desk. Quietly, she told Ramsey she was going to the bathroom. From his look of exasperation, she got the feeling that he didn’t believe her. Which was fair. Still, he waved her towards the door before going back to his iPad.

Outside of the studio, the hallway was empty. To her left were the elevators and emergency exit to the stairwell. If she went right, there were a few doors leading to a couple more studios and meeting rooms. Beyond that, she would enter the museum area. With the Visible Storage, William Richards, American Art, and a few other displays.

She took a couple steps towards the displays and then did a small circle, trying to decide where Bucky might have gone. Her boots clicked against the tile floor. A soft buzz came from the golden lights on the ceiling. Y/N had a feeling he would have wanted to be somewhere quiet and alone. Walking slowly through the hall, she checked all the other rooms. Only one was active with some sort of lecture taking place. The other 5 were unoccupied and dark. She didn’t believe that Bucky would purposefully go sit in the dark. So, she turned around and continued to the stairwell.

Opening the door, Y/N stepped out and quietly shut it behind her. The click of the door sealing still echoed through the silent concrete flight of stairs. Faintly, she could smell ashy smoke. She walked down the first flight and turned the corner of the landing. There was a draft and she wished she had thought to grab her sweater. Glancing down, she saw Bucky shuffling over to sit as far against the wall as he could. Probably attempting to get out of the way of whoever was coming down. He huddled up in his hoodie, knees drawn close, feet on the step just below the flat landing. She now understood where the smell of smoke was coming from. Determined, she took the last step to even ground and strolled slowly over to him.

As she sat down beside him, she noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from a cigarette he was subtly hiding between his knees. Y/N didn’t smoke. Tried it once and nearly coughed up a lung, but she understood why people did. Everyone had their own reasons. She only ever requested that no one smoked in her apartment. Still, she was surprised. She never smelt cigarettes on him and he never once asked if he could smoke at her place. Or excused himself to smoke outside.

Bucky side glanced over to her before letting out a breath and bringing the cigarette to his mouth. He took a long drag and blew out a massive plum of smoke, then immediately waved it away, making it disperse quicker and looking a bit apologetic, “I swear I quit.” He explained, trying to smile but not quite managing “I’ve carried this pack with me for a year now. Just to prove I could have them on me but not light ‘em.” He rolled the cigarette in his fingers and stared at the burning end “Guess I have to start over now.”

Y/N settled in beside him, crossing her arms over her knees and curling forward. “That’s ok.” She gave a half shrug, studying his downcast expression as he flicked ash between his feet. It sprinkled on a second cigarette butt, “If you want to quit you will.” She laid her head down on her arms, using them and her knees as a pillow. Despite being extremely worried, she didn’t want to press. If he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t make him. It meant a lot to her that he hadn’t told her to go away. Softly, she wondered “Watercolor so bad that you needed a smoke break?”

Reluctantly, Bucky chuckled, and the sound made her stomach warm “Something like that.” He murmured, taking a last drag from the cigarette before rubbing it out on the stair between his feet. Smoke rushed out of his nose as he breathed out. The smell made her lungs burn but it didn’t bother her too much. It reminded her of the way her grandfather used to smell. There was something somewhat comforting there, even if her body rejected the tainted air.

Bucky stared dejectedly down at his feet, eyebrows pinched and almost angry. His right hand rubbed at the fingers of his left. Like he was trying to massage out an ache.

Y/N didn’t comment on it, instead she stared up at him and stated “I’m pretty sure they have a no smoking policy inside the building. If we get caught, I’m throwing you under the bus.” She kept her voice very dry and knew he caught the humor when one side of his mouth turned up, like he wanted to smile. He finally looked at her then.

The rings under his eyes were darker than normal and his skin was pale. His hair was a mess, like he ran a hand through it one too many times. Something made his back hunch forward. Almost like Bucky was trying to curl in on himself. Like he wanted to disappear.

“I’ll take full responsibility. Don’t worry. I’ll just pull my veteran status and say that the cold makes my arm hurt so I couldn’t stand outside.” Bucky flexed the fingers of his left hand again and grimaced, “They’ll let me off with a warning, tops.”

“How manipulative of you.” Y/N replied, pretending to be disapproving. When Bucky covered another wince with a thin laugh at her words, her frown deepened with concern, “Your arm hurting?”

Bucky flinched from her question, as if alarmed that she noticed. Then he studied her face, eyes a little suspicious, before slowly relaxing. She was watching him calmly, with a little bit of concern, but not really pity. He slowly nodded “Ya, well, really it’s my hand. It’s phantom pains. Happens sometimes when I’m stressed. It’s like my fingers are over an open flame. They’re throbbing.” His shoulders tensed up near his ears and he tried to smile, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but obviously it was.

Just his description made Y/N flinch in sympathy. He turned his attention back to his hand, rubbing at his gloved fingers. She rocked her feet against the concrete, rising up on her toes and then rolling back on her heels, restless “Does that help?” She asked, waving towards his hands with her own closest to him.

Not looking up, he nodded “Sometimes. Tony made my arm so that I can feel pressure and temperature. It’s still experimental. Not perfectly accurate. But, if I send pressure signals to my nerves long enough, the pains go away. Usually.” He huffed, frowning and biting his lip “Today’s just a really, really bad day.” That felt like a loaded comment. His voice cracked, dropping to almost a whisper near the end.

There was a long stretch of silence after that. Not an uncomfortable silence. Just quiet and full of thoughts. Y/N broke it with an offer, hoping to make him smile again “If watercolor’s stressing you that bad, I’ll do the painting for you. Ramsey doesn’t have to know.”

Bucky snorted and tilted his head to study her, smiling a little more when he saw the cheeky grin she gave him “I might take you up on that.” Then he turned back to his hand, slowly plucking off the glove he always wore. He stuffed it into his hoodie pocket and cleared his throat “But I don’t think it would help.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Y/N flicked her hair out of her eyes, tugging the long white sleeves of her shirt over her palms. The draft through the stairwell, along with the cold rock underneath her, had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She hugged her legs a little tighter. Being curled up helped her conserve some of her warmth.

The plates of his fingers hummed as he arched them, stretching them as far as he could. She didn’t think he was going to respond for a minute. He wouldn’t look at her. But then his words hesitantly broke the quiet. Almost shy, “It’s um… remember Dot?” He asked slowly, still not looking at her. His hair fell forward over his forehead in a soft wave. Nervously, he shuffled his feet, and smeared some of the ash across the stair.

She nodded, and he must have seen her from his peripheral because he continued “She stayed the night Monday.” Bucky’s nose wrinkled, and his lips were pressed into a fine line. Irritated, “I didn’t plan on anything happening but then a lot happened.” He let out a long breath “A lot. She didn’t leave until Wednesday.” He pushed at his metal ring finger, stretching it back, then forward towards his palm.

Y/N instantly buried the pain and disappointment that surged through her. It burned in her chest and twisted her stomach tight with thorns. But she pushed it down and locked it away. This wasn’t the time for her petty issues. Bucky was hurting over something. Something so bad that he was having phantom pains and relapsed into smoking, “Did it not go well?” She asked, keeping her voice quiet and as soothing as she could manage. Afraid of making him clam back up. Afraid he would throw his walls back in her face.

A spiteful, bitter laugh left him, and he regarded her, eyebrows furrowed “It was great. Really great. We laughed and talked.” He sat up, restless with too much nervous energy, tone spiteful “The sex was fantastic.” His voice rose towards the end, pent up frustration escaping in bursts, and he gestured with his arms. Only to wince with a loud curse and curl back in on himself when the pain in his arm spiked.

Y/N was sitting at his left and straightened up when he cried out. She brought her hand up, touching his arm, worried, “Careful!” He looked at her, surprised and covered her hand with his right one. His touch was gentle and warm. She frowned at him, the hand on his upper arm squeezed reassuringly “You ok?” The metal was hard under his plush sleeve.

Bucky exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and nodded “I’m alright. Just irritated it.” She dropped her hand. Subdued, Bucky rubbed at his fingers again “Anyway, then she got ready to go Wednesday. She was just about to walk out the door, but she stopped to tell me it was all a mistake.” He grimaced, teeth clenching in a mocking smile, voice fluctuating with flippant sarcasm “That she finally realized I’m not the man she fell in love with. That she’s not the girl I think I love.” His head dropped down, hanging low, and she could tell he wanted to cry. He swiped roughly at his eyes.

Not knowing what else to do, she reached over and tentatively laid her hand on his inner wrist. With just enough weight that he could feel her there. When he didn’t shove her off, her palm slipped against his and she laced their fingers together. His hand was cold against her skin, and she squeezed. For a minute, Bucky was silent, but then he squeezed carefully back.

“Why do girls think they have to make decisions for everyone else?” He asked, not looking at their hands. Hard metal against the soft skin. Instead, he stared down the staircase, somewhere off in the distance. Not really seeing anything, “I respect her realizing that I’m not…” He cleared his throat as his voice got thick and rough “I’m not the person I was before the army. I’m not. But she shouldn’t decide how I feel about her.”

“No, she shouldn’t.” Y/N spoke up and he tilted his head to peek up at her. Still slouched forward like he was trying to disappear. His eyes were shining grey in the dim light of the stairwell. Tears held back just by a thread. Full lips raw from biting them too hard, “It’s your choice whether you love her or not. She should have let you have that. Even if it was her choice to not love you back.” She licked her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat “But she shouldn’t have spent the night with you if she wasn’t sure.” She scooted closer and placed her other hand on top of his left one, encasing his hand in her both of hers and held tightly. It warmed the longer she held it. Her thumb brushed over the plates, feeling the texture. And Bucky let her.

He was quiet for a while. Just watching her hold his hand. Staring intently, as if thinking, but not pulling away, “She didn’t let me figure it out on my own. I thought maybe we could work it out.”

Y/N could feel his body heat down her entire side where they were pressed together. The solid weight of their hands made her feel connected to him. She wasn’t as cold anymore “She should have talked to you about everything before letting you feel that way.”

Bucky nodded, biting his bottom lip. Again, “I wish she had. It felt like losing her all over again.” He blinked past the mist in his eyes and shrugged, trying to brush off the weight in the air, “But I don’t think this’ll ever happen again.”

“Why not?” The hurt radiating from him made her chest ache. She kept gently rubbing his hand with her fingers. Down his wrist, over his thumb, across his own fingertips. Y/N hoped he could feel the comfort she was trying to translate through her touch.

“As mad as I am that she assumed she knew how I felt. She isn’t wrong. I don’t love her anymore.” Bucky scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand, cracking it, and then rubbed at his damp eyes “I think I just love the idea of loving her. Ya know?” He sniffed and laughed wetly, “At least, that’s what Steve keeps telling me.”

“Steve seems like a smart guy.” Y/N stated. She laid her head against his shoulder and continued, “I do understand that, though. It’s almost impossible to let go of someone you cared about for so long. They’re comforting. You know what to expect. It’s hard to get over that kind of heartbreak.”

“I guess you would know?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. She tilted her head up to look at him. Their faces were stooped close together. The moment felt very private and intimate.

Y/N had the sudden urge to draw it. Draw them like this. From behind. Capturing their backs and tilted faces. The look of tired curiosity on Bucky’s face. Two people bonding over something universally sad and too common. A moment of intimate human connection.

Slowly, she looked down at her hand over his. The rings she was wearing glinted in the harsh light. This was easier than staring into his eyes. Her heart jumped as she admitted, “Ya, it took me over a year to even think about dating again.”

Bucky glanced up at the high ceiling and huffed, blowing out a breath. The sound reverberated through the stairwell “I don’t know if I’ll ever wanna date again.” He muttered “I’m too fucked up. No one should have to deal with my issues.”

Y/N instantly remembered the conversation from a few days ago. In the back of the cab. Right before Dot showed up and tugged him away. It felt different now. Bucky still had the same issues, but she understood just a bit better. After today. She leaned forward to make him look at her and shook his arm to get his attention when he wouldn’t “What did we just talk about?”

When he stared at her blankly, she groaned in frustration.

“It’s your choice to not want to date. That’s up to you but don’t go making decisions for someone else. If someone thinks they can deal with your issues, then let them try. Let them have that choice.” She finished, feeling like she hadn’t explained herself well enough. Yet again. Her heart was beating too fast. Too hard. He had to be able to hear it.

“Don’t shut people out.” Y/N finished when he remained quiet. She was holding his hand tightly now. Her foot bounced anxiously. Frustrated at herself and at this situation. Angry at a woman she didn’t know for making Bucky feel like this. Making him feel like he didn’t deserve anyone.

Bucky was still staring at her, minutes later, mouth in a hard line. She thought maybe she made him mad. But then he chuckled and started to laugh earnestly. Shaking his head, Bucky stood, and she let go of his hand. He let out a shaky breath and scooped up his cigarette pack, tucking the finished butts into it, “Gotta give you that one. You’re right. I’m a hypocrite.”

“That’s not what I was getting at.” She protested, pouting, eyes narrowed up at him. The light from the ceiling haloed around his head.

“I know, but it’s true.” He turned, peering up the stairs that lead back to their class, “I’ll try not to go around making decisions for other people.” Bucky promised and then looked down at her. He offered her his hand, and she took it. He easily hauled her up.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was more he wasn’t saying. More that she should say. But then Bucky was changing the subject and she didn’t get the chance.

“Have you ever actually looked through the Brooklyn Museum? We come here every week and I can honestly say I’ve never seen any of it.” Bucky mused, dusting off his pants “Wanna check it out?”

She smoothed down her white blouse, dusting the grim off her jeans. Their voices carried through the stairwell, seeming louder than they were. From down below, she heard one of the doors open. Voices carried up all the flights of stairs as people started coming up their way.

They should get back to class. She had to go to another class back at Orion in less than an hour. All their stuff was waiting in the classroom. She had a dirty paintbrush. The bristles were probably ruined by now from the paint drying. Ramsey was probably wondering where they were.

“Definitely.” Y/N replied, suddenly excited. His eyes were warm when he nodded. Finally, alive again. Not fully. There was still some sadness tinged at the edges. But it was an improvement.

Bucky playfully smirked and started down the stairs backwards. Showing off. The other people were getting closer. Then he turned and waved for her to follow him. Jogging down gracefully. But she hesitated on the landing for a second. He had just reached the bend when she took a small step towards him and called, “Buck?” He paused and looked back up at her curiously, hands in his pockets “Is your hand ok?”

He brought it out and squinted down at his left hand, opening and closing his fist a couple times. The silver glinted in the florescent light, peeking out from under his hoodie sleeve. He shrugged “Ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching her “Comin?”

Y/N nodded “Right behind you.” Then she started down the stairs after him.


	4. Bleeding Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their foreheads touched again, and he was radiant. Too alive and beautiful for the dimly lit diner they were in.  
> She wanted to know every inch of him. Oh god she wanted to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this chapter out. It took a lot of editing to reach the point that I'm satisfied with it.  
> Had to work on my attention to detail.  
> I've made yet another banner for this chapter and you can see it [here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/178094653978/your-colors-ch4).  
> I hope you like it! Please comment and let me know what you think.  
> It really helps me out to know that people are enjoying this.

By the time Thanksgiving came around, Y/N had started to realize how often she actually spent time with Bucky. Mostly because today, they didn’t have class, so she didn’t get to see him like she normally would. It was Thursday, and she wouldn’t have to step inside Orion again until the following Monday. Instead of going home, though, she decided to use her time productively, and get caught up on all her general-education classes that she neglected.

Mostly history, because that was the bane of her existence.

She glanced up from her textbook, noticing that Darcy wasn’t even pretending to read anymore. Instead, her friend had taken to studying her a little too closely and holding her steaming mug of tea against her chin. As if she were about to take a sip, but then got distracted.

The study-plan was failing, though, because she invited her classmate over for a good-old study date. Darcy was the very first friend she made in college. They met in her very first Science class and hit it off by making fun of their very flamboyant and eccentric teacher. Been friends ever since. It helped that Darcy also got her the student librarian position. As a result, they spent a lot of time together at work, in class, and mostly at Y/N’s apartment. Darcy lived on campus with her roommate Jane.

Determined to ignore her, Y/N stared back down at her book. She tapped her pencil against her notebook and tried to read the paragraph on Greek architecture. Once and then twice. The words were starting to blur together.

Despite being close, they didn’t share any mutual friends. Darcy couldn’t stand Whitney and Gabby. Plus, Y/N was one of Darcy’s very few friends. She liked Jane quite a bit, but they didn’t have much in common other than their mutual friend.

Finally giving in, she closed her history book with a satisfying THUNK, and shoved it onto her coffee table. She pushed her icy toes against Darcy’s on the other side of the couch. They were sharing the plush, black reclining futon. Curled up on their respective ends, with a nice blanket over their legs to fight off the chill.

Darcy jumped at the jarring sensation of Y/N’s toes, and she glared, narrowly managing to not spill her tea, “Son of a bitch! Your toes are a glacier! Goddamn woman!” She tried to pull away but there wasn’t much space to squirm away to.

Barely holding back a giggle, Y/N wiggled her offending toes, stuffing them beneath her friend’s thigh, “Alright. Spit it out. Why have you been staring at me the past hour?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms and snuggling deeper into the couch. She tugged the blanket up higher on her chest, picking at a loose thread.

Grumbling a little, the brunet dumped her own folder of notes unceremoniously onto the floor. She shoved her own cold toes under Y/N’s butt for revenge, and took a long sip of her tea, making sure her friend suffered in waiting. Finally, she asked, sighing with satisfaction from her hot drink, “Alright just let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’ve known Bucky for a month. And in that time, you’ve stared at each other for hours.”

“Drawn each other. Not just staring.” She interrupted, already starting to pout as she saw where this was going. There was no stopping Darcy when she started on a tirade, though.

“Ahuh, whatever. He risked his life saving you and then whisked you away on his motorcycle. Gave you a precious little portrait that he made on his own time.” She started ticking off her points on her fingers, “And you managed to rescue him in return from a panic attack. And somehow, despite all that. You’re not in love with this gorgeous hunk of man?” Darcy raised her eyebrows suggestively. She leaned over and sat her mug on the coffee table, holding up her fingers as if to emphasis at how many points she just made.

Five points to be exact.

The heat kicked on again, and Y/N looked away, staring up at the ceiling. She hadn’t told Darcy much about the panic attack, respecting Buck’s privacy. Just enough to explain why she was withdrawn at work and seemed troubled. Plus, she had to vent about Bucky’s weird closed-off-ness to someone, or else she was going to explode. And she trusted Darcy. Which was saying a lot.

“Well… no I’m not.” She finally replied, meeting her friend’s skeptical gaze. She helpfully shrugged when Darcy kept staring. Despite her disbelief, Y/N wasn’t lying. She wasn’t in love with Bucky. No matter how handsome he was.

Darcy gestured wildly at her hands, “Well I am! And I’ve never even met the man. He’s an artsy, understanding, sad puppy! Just like you!” She huffed, scrapping her long, tangled hair over her shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed, and lips pursed in thought.

Offended, Y/N scowled at her so-called friend, “I am not a sad puppy.” She snatched her bottle of water off the table and unscrewed it, taking a drink. The plastic creaked in quiet protest at how harshly she handled it.

Giving her best ‘you’re kidding me’ face, Darcy rolled her eyes, “You have self-diagnosed depression, intimacy issues, anxiety, and a dark past. I think you would qualify as a sad puppy if you just let yourself.”

If Darcy wasn’t her best friend, she might be offended. Rattling off not-so-great qualities, rubbing them in her face, and degrading her down to ‘sad puppy’ status, was rude. Very rude. Especially since it was true. But friendships were built on rudeness, and playfully teasing. And being comfortable enough to even know each other’s flaws. So, she pouted even more and whined, “Well at least I’m cute.”

To which the wanna-be-scientist grinned and agreed, “Adorable. Just like Bucky. So why aren’t you asking him out?” She just wasn’t going to let this go. Like a goddamn dog with a bone. Or, more accurately, a scientist with a hypothesis.

Y/N groaned, loudly to assure that her annoyance was understood, “Because! I don’t know him that well. And ya sure he’s hot, but you don’t build a relationship off ‘gosh your pretty’!” At least she didn’t. Not after everything with her last serious relationship. Which she was over, and ready to date again. Had dated a few other people since him, but she just had a harder time with it. Apparently, it’s difficult to trust people after someone manages to hurt you. A lot.

“He’s not an open book.” She continued, fidgeting with her fingers, “I barely know anything about his past. What he wants to do with his life. What he’s been through. Or if he even could like me back. He’s not even interested in dating right now. Says he’s too messed up for it.” Finished, she threw up her hands in yet another shrug. Completely exasperated.

Darcy was staring at her again. Lips pressed into a thin line and playing with her long brown hair. She curled the ends around her pale fingers, dark green painted nails shining between the strands, “He’s just nervous.” She stated, face lighting up with a grin, “And you’ll get to know him. Obviously, you like him a lot or you wouldn’t even care. Don’t let this go. Ok? He likes you too. I can feel it.”

Glaring, she shook her head, replying with a scoff, “You can’t know that. He’s got this whole other thing that he’s getting over with his high-school sweetheart. We’re just friends. They were supposed to get married. I can’t compete with that.” She slumped back, letting her head drop so she could stare up at the ceiling, peeking over at Darcy when she spoke up again.

“But they didn’t get married. Aren’t even dating now.” Darcy’s smile slipped a little, growing a bit more serious, “And you can’t know that he doesn’t like you. What’s the hurt in finding out?” When Y/N’s nose crinkled in obvious disagreement, her friend explained, “I’m not saying jump his bones. Confess your feelings or whatever. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t count yourself out before you’ve even tried. He would be an idiot to not like you. Besides, there’s more to knowing a person than a list of facts about their history and stuff.”

Silence followed Darcy’s speech. Y/N stared out the window across the room, cheek pressed against the armrest of her futon. The sun was starting to tip down below the skyscrapers, painting the sky in pinks and purples. It was a clear day, but cold. Fall was dipping towards winter quickly now. Trees barely had any leaves left to them and the dew in the morning was turning into frost.

Despite wanting to deny everything, Darcy wasn’t wrong.

If she let herself think about it, she knew Bucky in a lot of different little ways.

_“Before I joined the army, I didn’t realize how lucky it is to have clean drinking water.” Bucky turned off the faucet and tapped the spout, eyes far away, “We really shouldn’t take stuff like this for granted.” He shrugged, shaking himself out of his stupor, and turned back to her with a lopsided grin. Once again, the shadow over his eyes receded back._

He liked soda but drank water most of the time. It wasn’t about being healthy. Mostly, it was about simply having the luxury to.

_Y/N reached over and twisted the knob of her radio, turning up the song. It was one of Panic! At the Disco’s newest numbers. Since it was her turn to control the music, she blasted it. Humming along to it, she went back over to her couch and picked her watercolor sketchbook back up, only to pause right before she sat down. Her eyes landed on Bucky, who was actually singing quietly along with the song. A song she hadn’t expected him to know, much less enjoy. He was busy arranging another still-life, but his hips were swaying, and he was dancing around the table. Not badly either.  Smoothly, he tossed an apple up on the air, spun, and caught it behind his back. She giggled, drawing his attention to her._

_“What?” He asked, looking a little embarrassed but mostly scandalized that she dared to laugh at him._

He liked older music from the 40’s but would tolerate her newer choices. Even seemed to enjoy some of her rock bands, and just about anything that either had good lyrics or a beat to dance to.  
He even sang to himself sometimes, without music, and almost danced when he was really focused on a piece, if there was room to move.  
He loved pizza, but it had to be New York style.

_“There’s no other way to eat pizza. It’s a tragedy that not everyone has good taste.” He spoke around a mouthful, sitting cross legged on the floor of her apartment. A pizza box sprawled open between them._

He loved art. Loved animals. Especially dogs. They talked about books once and she remembered being surprised that he was an avid sci-fi reader. There was more, but her head was starting to swim.

So, ya, she knew Bucky Barnes, but didn’t know him at the same time.

Didn’t know about his obviously horrible history overseas. Didn’t know much about his family. Or relationship history. Or dreams, fears, or hopes. He grew up in Brooklyn, but what was his childhood like? What was he like in school? Did he go to college? Why did he work at a bakery? Did he want a career? How did he meet Steve? What other friends did he have?

Y/N was jarred out of her thoughts by her phone buzzing loudly against the surface of the coffee table. Only twice, which meant she had a text. She picked it up, noticing Darcy was also playing around on her phone.

_Bucky: Hey, having a good turkey day?_

Speak of the devil. Bucky wasn’t a huge texter. Didn’t use emojis, and almost always typed out all his words. Mostly little things every day, or every other day. He liked to check on her from time to time if they hadn’t seen each other in a while. Or sent her dumb selfies, or photos of something he thought was interesting.

Still, every message made her smile like an idiot. Darcy’s knowing eyes over the brim of her own phone, made her blush and purse her lips, trying to contain the grin.

_Y/N: Nothin special. Didn’t go home, so I’ve just been doing homework all day. No turkey for me. You?_

They hadn’t talked about their Thanksgiving Day plans before. She managed to forget about it. Too focused on all of her projects. The only family she had in New York were her parents, a 30-minute drive away to Forest Hills, Queens. Since it was just the three of them, they didn’t really celebrate everything. Her mother offered to cook a big dinner, and send her home with the leftovers, but she wanted to spend the long weekend relaxing. Besides, she was going to get plenty of family time come Christmas, when they all flew to see their entire extended family in Ohio.

Bucky replied quickly.

_Bucky: Me either. We should go get dinner then!_

Her eyes widened, and she snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth to contain her nervous laughter. Darcy noticed anyway. Y/N’s toes curled under Darcy’s thigh, and she started to type a reply, only to backspace it out. Then she locked her phone screen all together.

“What?” Darcy closed her own phone, knees pulling up, so she could hug them over the blanket. A knowing smirk lifted one corner of her mouth and her eyes sharply narrowed. Studying.

Y/N stared up at her, eyes still round, “Bucky wants to go get Thanksgiving Dinner with me.” Her voice was barely more than a nervous whisper. She twirled her phone in her hands and sat up more, crossing her legs on the couch. It felt like her stomach was trying to escape through her throat. She swallowed. Then picked up her forgotten mug of lukewarm tea and took a drink.

The answering smile was sly and mischievous, quickly taking up Darcy’s face, “Oooh like a date?” She asked, suggestively shimmying her shoulders. Even exaggeratingly batting her long eyelashes, making Y/N cringe.

Glancing down at her dark phone screen again, she thought for a second, and then shook her head, “Don’t think so. He never means it like a date.” They’ve done a lot of ‘date-like’ activities, but always as friends. She shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore any hope attempting to sprout up, “I think he just wants to eat together since we’re not having dinner with our families.”

Darcy jumped up with a triumphant grin, nearly tripping herself in the blanket. Her movement knocked the fleece blanket into the floor, making Y/N whine at the sudden cold. Then she started to gather her things, shoving them hastily in her bag, “Well I think that’s my cue to leave!” She didn’t even seem to care if she creased her papers or crushed her books.

“What? No? Why?” Y/N asked, watching as her friend whirled around like a tornado through her apartment, “You don’t have to go! I dunno if I even wanna go out with him.” That would require getting dressed, and trying to look nice, and being all anxious. She didn’t really know if she had the energy for it today. Staying home and watching Netflix was definitely more appealing.

With a wave of her hand, Darcy shut her up, already slipping on her striped coat, “No! No, you’re going. You’re gonna look super cute and charm his pants off. Then tell me all about it later. It’ll be great.” She grinned, obviously leaving no room for discussion, “And if you don’t, I will post those embarrassing photos of you at my birthday party all over Facebook.”

Blackmail. It always came down to blackmail. Y/N scowled. “I’m never going to celebrate your birthday ever again.” Darcy snickered, winking at her playfully. It crossed her mind that she probably wouldn’t follow up with the threat, but even the possibility was foreboding enough.

Those were some terrible pictures.

About to protest more Y/N’s words died in her throat when her phone started to ring. It was Bucky. Darcy smirked knowingly, and shouldered on her bag, stumbling back a little under the weight of all the textbooks. Answering at the last second, and doing her best to ignore her nosy bestie, she stood up, “Hey! Sorry, my friend Darc was just leaving. We were wrapping up with our homework.” She turned and lightly shoved Darcy towards the door when she held up her hands in the shape of a heart.

“Oh good cause I’m getting into a cab now. Just wanted to make sure you were ready.” There was a smile in Bucky’s voice that made her stomach flip. She stopped walking, leaning against the wall beside her window. Cars honked far below her, and she could see some people milling around in the alley between her building and the next.

Nervously, she glanced down at herself. Still in her checkered pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, “Ya! I’m ready. Where are we even going?” She tugged her hair out of its messy bun, attempting to comb the tangles out with her fingers.

Darcy started to make kissy-faces at her, and she scowled, jabbing a finger at the door. Her friend mouthed a very exaggerated ‘BYYYYEEEEE’, before finally shutting the door behind her. Her apartment felt very quiet and too empty in the absence of her friend. Alone, she tuned back into what Bucky was saying.

“—awesome diner on Waverly Street. It’s open all the time. Has an authentic vintage feel to it, and the owners are really nice.” She heard him pause and give directions to the driver. There was some shuffling on the other end of the line. Patiently, she crossed her arms, already thinking of everything she had to do to get ready.

“Sounds great. I hope you’re paying. Don’t make much at the library.” She barely even made minimum wage. Almost every cent went towards rent. Sometimes her parents had to chip in. Padding away from the window, she opened the drawer of her dresser, and started sorting through all her shirts.

“You’re covered. See you in 20?” Bucky asked, and she nodded, only realizing he couldn’t see her.

“See ya.”

She threw her phone to the bed behind her and groaned. 20 minutes to look decent. Maybe she could do it.

*****

Decent turned out to be grey skinny jeans tucked into knee high boots, a soft violet shirt, that showed a sliver of her stomach if she stretched right, and a long black sweater. Topped off with a coat because the weather outside was turning into frightful. Her hair fell around her face, left down and styled the best she could in short notice. Still felt like a mess, but she had a little makeup on, curtesy of Darcy making her overthink everything, and it made her lips and eyes pop.

Bucky sat across from her in a white booth with aqua colored cushions. The diner was open, and as sweet as promised. Everything was styled in teal, and silver, with purple accents in the light fixtures and tables. The floor was checkered, and an authentic looking jukebox sat just a few feet behind her. It was polished to a shine, and kept with tender love, so it was probably as old as it looked. She was pretty sure Bucky picked the booth closest to it on purpose. Time was settling towards 7pm, and there were only a few other people there. Some men sat at the counter on ancient barstools, probably truckers, their threadbare caps screamed it. At the other end of the diner, an elderly couple ate quietly in another booth. Likely on a date.

A cheerful older woman came over, wearing a teal dress with a frilly white apron, and suddenly Y/N understood this place took it’s look very seriously, “Good afternoon! Welcome to Rita’s Diner. My name is Gloria, I will be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?” Her silvery blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that bounced as she spoke. Despite the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes, she was vibrant and shone with a rare inner happiness. One you didn’t see too often anymore.

Y/N wouldn’t be able to guess her age even if Gloria handed her a driver’s license. She had a sudden urge to draw her, but she didn’t have a sketchbook. So, she settled for attempting to drill as many details about her in her head and resigned to drawing her from memory.

Unable to do anything but smile, Y/N spoke up, “Sprite’s fine for me.”

“I’ll have coffee,” Bucky replied right after her.

Gloria placed down their menus before quickly departing. Y/N picked one up, slowly mulling over her options. As silence fell, she took the opportunity to ask, “So, why aren’t you doing anything with your family tonight?” Her eyes flickered up to study Bucky’s face and then quickly out the window when he almost caught her staring.

People walked past the window to her left in the last rays of sunlight. One of the truckers barked a laugh at something a waitress said. Overhead, silver fixtures illuminated each individual booth with golden light. The tabletops were shiny and had old newspaper clippings and pictures from magazines collaged underneath the plastic. All from the 1930s and ‘40s. There was a nostalgic air to this place and it helped her relax just a little.

Bucky stared back down at his menu and gave a half shrug, “We’re not big on holidays. It’s just my dad, Rebecca and me.” There wasn’t a lot of warmth in his voice when he said, ‘my dad’. He didn’t talk much about his family, and she was surprised to hear that he had a sister, “Me and Becca had dinner together yesterday. I cooked some food and took it over to dad’s after she left. Visited for a bit, but he’s not much of a talkative guy.” Bucky cracked a smile, but his eyes were very sad. Fake smiles were his specialty, though. If she hadn’t spent so much time with him, she wouldn’t have even noticed.

There was something wrong there. It didn’t feel like a good place to pry, though. So, she focused on something else.

“Are you and Rebecca close?” She laid her closed menu on the table, keeping her finger between the pages to mark what she wanted to eat. Just in case she somehow managed to forget. The plastic coating on the table felt sticky against her hands, like they attempted to clean syrup off it one too many times. It just didn’t come off.

Finally glancing up at her, Bucky smiled wide and genuine. Like the topic of his sister breathed life back into him, “Definitely. She’s living on campus at the College of Technology, but I see her every week. She’s a little genius. Gonna be an engineer for Stark Industries.” He was talking rapidly, and Y/N was starting to wonder why he never talked about Rebecca before. Apparently, she was very important to him, and he practically glowed with pride.

But maybe that was why. Rebecca and even Steve, were precious people in Bucky’s life. People he wanted to protect. Guard them in ways as simple as keeping their privacy. It made Y/N feel warm. This was another way that Bucky was showing her trust. Letting her in. She felt honored but didn’t want to freak him out by saying so.

Gloria came back in a flurry of swishing skirts and took their orders. It only took a minute, and she focused back on Bucky the moment their waitress was out of earshot.

“She sounds amazing.” Y/N continued, propping her elbows up on the booth, “What made her choose to be an engineer?” She twirled her straw in her drink. Bucky picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. The steam swirled around his face, and he grimaced a little from how hot it was but didn’t complain.

After he sat the white cup down, he wiggled the fingers of his left hand. She could here the slight shift of panels under his black glove, “She was 17 when this happened. When she heard what Stark did for me, she wanted to be part of that. Wanted to be able to help people like her big brother.” His face was soft as he explained, staring down at his coffee. No longer seeing the diner, but instead, a memory. It occurred to Y/N that she completely forgot about his arm. It just felt like a part of him. Nothing different about it.

“It’s hard to get a place in Stark industries.” She mused, crossing her ankles under the table, and took another sip of her drink, “My friend from back home started working there about 6 months ago. He graduated early from MIT. Told me that he only got in because he interned there before he graduated, and impressed Stark himself with some bio-chemistry thingy he discovered.” She dismissively waved her hand, face contorted as she tried to remember what exactly her friend had said.

A slow, cheeky grin spread on Bucky’s face as he raised his eyebrows at her, “Bio-chemistry thingy…? How technical. Sounds impressive.” He had his cup lifted, halfway into taking a drink, and tried to hide his snicker behind it.

Y/N’s face burned. She snorted and ducked her head, hair falling over her hunched shoulders, “I kinda tune him out when he goes all science on me. I don’t really get what he’s saying half the time.” A sheepish expression took over as her blush faded away and she shrugged.

Bucky cackled, “I only understand it ‘cause Rebecca insists on teaching me half the stuff she learns from class.” He stated it flippantly, like it wasn’t a big deal. Then he picked up the coffee pot that Gloria left behind and poured himself another cup. Started talking about how weirdly amazing the diner coffee was, but she only half-listened.

He surprised her yet again. It wasn’t a small feat that he could understand the level of stuff Stark employees were expected to know. Let alone, learn it vicariously through his little sister. Bucky seemed like a very bright individual. He probably could learn anything if he just tried. Y/N wished he could see that about himself.

“She’s already interning with Stark.” Bucky paused, fingers tapping the edge of his cup as he looked out the window thoughtfully. Y/N shook herself out of her distracted train of thought, and focused back in. It seemed that he was debating something. His lower lip was tugged between his teeth, and a small crease furrowed between his brows. She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped because it occurred to her that he might not finish what he was saying if she interrupted.

Then he sighed and turned back to her, hesitating only a second longer, “Tony’s a family friend through Steve. When I lost my arm, he personally dealt with my case. He already had this in the works.” He shrugged his left shoulder, pressing his hand flat on the table, “I signed a waiver and became his first human trial run. Later, when Becca told me her plans after I got back home. I contacted Tony for her. Behind her back of course.” He smirked, mirth shining in his eyes, “She didn’t want any special favors. Wanted to prove herself. I respect that, but it doesn’t hurt to have a foot in the door. She only accepted the internship if she got to start at the very bottom.”

“What year is she?” Y/N asked, smiling at his story. It blew her away that Bucky was on a first name basis with one of the most powerful men in the world. She had so many other questions. How he lost his arm, when did he come back, did the procedure work well the first time? But she focused on his sister. A safer topic. She already learned so much tonight. She didn’t want to ask the wrong thing and ruin it.

“Her third. She’s only a year younger than you actually.” Bucky studied her thoughtfully, taking another drink. The soft golden light overhead made his blue grey eyes almost hazel. Oddly, it appeared he only just realized there wasn’t much of an age difference between Rebecca and her, “Weird.” He muttered, more to himself than her.

“Well I hope I can meet her sometime.” Y/N replied. The last orange rays of the sun faded and the golden light across their table winked out. Leaving only the light from the diner and lamp posts outside. She quietly pondered the idea that maybe someone who glanced in as they walked by would think they were on some sort of date. Maybe that they were even a cute couple.

Too bad they would be mistaken.

 

 

After their food came, they talked a little about her. She explained that she was going on a big trip with her family for Christmas and that they didn’t normally celebrate Thanksgiving since a lot of food usually went to waste. Plus, she wanted to enjoy a little bit of quiet. Y/N talked a bit about moving from Ohio to New York. Most of her extended family was still in Ohio.

Bucky brushed over what it was like to grow up in Brooklyn. Just painted in some simple pictures for her. How he met Steve in middle-school. He had been about to leave to pick up his sister from elementary school, when he noticed Steve being beat up just beyond school property. Ever since then, Bucky had been pulling Steve out of one scrape or another. They even moved in together after Bucky turned 18 and enlisted into the army when they were 20.

Conversation didn’t linger on the topic of his military history. Bucky quickly steered it back towards mundane things like their jobs. Specifically, funniest experiences with customers.

Y/N pushed her plate away, full enough to be miserable, but could barely keep her laughter from interrupting Bucky’s story. She crossed her arms, eyes never leaving his expressions and perfect hand gestures as he made yet another story come alive for her.

“Ok so sometimes we have these coupons that last for about a week. They give you a ‘buy one, get one half off’ for anything in our pastry case. This old guy came in with an expired coupon. And I will never forget his order.” Bucky paused, shaking his head and already trying not to crack up, “A black coffee with our sandwich of the day. And a piece of pumpkin pie. So, when he came up with the coupon I had to tell him it was expired, and he couldn’t get half off anyway ‘cause he only ordered one pastry. Which he barely even ate. He had it wrapped up in a napkin.”

“What did he do?” Y/N asked, voice low in nervous dread, grinning at all of Bucky’s exaggerated hand gestures. His eyes sparked with horror and he leaned closer to her, a moment of silence for a dramatic pause.

“He got so mad that he threw the half eaten pumpkin pie at me.”

“No! He didn’t!” She exclaimed, mortified, but her shoulders shook from laughter.

Bucky sat back, arms crossed, and nodded slowly, “Yep. Right across my face. I just stood there. Stunned. Mrs. Rosy, the owner, actually took a second to come out of the kitchen to see what all the ruckus was about. While I cleaned pumpkin out of my hair, she wrapped him up another piece of pie and sent him on his way. Didn’t make him pay or anything.” He chuckled “Sent me home with a leftover pecan pie for my trouble. Wanna know the best part?”

“There’s a best part?” Her eyebrows inched up to her hairline skeptically.

He nodded, “As he left, I sang out ‘Have a nice day!’. Instead of being happy like a normal grandpa with free food, he shouted back ‘You’ve already spoiled my day!’.” Bucky snickered, “Haven’t seen him since.”

Y/N shook her head too, covering her mouth with her hand to keep her giggling down to a normal level. She had shed her sweater about an hour ago, leaving it in the booth beside her along with her keys, wallet, and coat. The food made her not only full, but a sleepy sort of cozy. Good food and conversation could do that for you.

Bucky drummed his hands against the edge of the table, eyes focused above her head. On the jukebox. Suddenly, he slipped out of the booth and strolled past her. She turned in her seat, trepidation dropping low in her stomach, while her heartbeat skipped up, “What are you doing?” She asked, suspicious.

Of course, he didn’t answer her. Instead, he stood in front of the jukebox and slid in a couple dollars. She could hear the slight clicking as he pushed the buttons, flipping through some songs. After a couple minutes, music started to burst from the speakers. It wasn’t older like she thought it would be. In fact, it was familiar in the sort of way that the name just slipped past her brain. Annoying because she couldn’t remember who it was by.

Gloria came over then, beaming up at Bucky as he sauntered back, steps definitely matching in time with the drums, “Oh I’m glad you found something you liked! We try to keep it up to date, along with timeless classics.” She picked up their dirty plates, and topped off Bucky’s coffee from a fresh pot, “Do you think you’ll be wanting some desert?”

Y/N was about to decline, overly stuffed anyway, but then Bucky supplied, “Bring us a big piece of whatever pie you think’s best ma’am.” He leaned his hip against the side of her booth, towering over her with his arms crossed. Y/N could smell his cologne. He was just in a button up black shirt, left open, with an Iron Man t-shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up and black jeans. Handsome would be putting it mildly.

It was Darcy’s fault that she kept having words like ‘handsome’ and ‘hot’ and ‘adorable’ flash through her head when it came to Bucky. All Darcy’s damned fault that she felt even more nervous around him than usual.

Gloria blushed at the charming expression on Bucky’s face, and nodded before quickly bustling away. After she disappeared, Bucky turned to look down at Y/N and offered out his hand, “Dance with me?”

Suddenly, she was transported to some rom-com moment and she didn’t know if she hated it or loved it.

Her eyes pointedly looked around the diner. There was a bit of empty space between the two lines of booths down where they were. But not a lot. The elderly couple was still sitting on the other side of the place. It was pitch black outside, and even though the customers had changed out, there were still people sitting at the bar. As well as a couple waiters milling around.

Y/N shook her head and sarcastically asked, “Here? In a diner?” Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. Some of the other people kept glancing over, curious about the sudden music. The first song, something by Imagine Dragons, was ending and another was just about to start up.

Bucky shrugged, undeterred, still offering out his hand, “There wouldn’t be a jukebox if they didn’t want people dancing.” He wiggled his fingers at her. When she still hesitated, he scoffed, “C’mon! Art is made from life experiences.” He waved his hand up in the air, “Come make some experiences with me!” More people glanced over as Bucky’s voice rose and she blushed.

Blushed because people were staring, and she didn’t like when they did that. Blushed because there was a handsome man standing in front of her asking her to dance. Blushed because this was absolutely insane and the small, mean voices in the back of her head twisted all of her insecurities.

The music swept around her, notes drifting and bleeding together like shades of watercolor. Several long seconds passed where she just listened to it and uncertainly stared up at him. Still debating. It took her a minute to recognize the song and she scoffed at his choice. _I Wanna Get Better_ by the Bleachers. He had played it for her before when he was in control of the speakers at her apartment from time to time. As the first chorus started to sound through she finally took his hand. Just three seconds of blind courage.

“If I step on your toes it’s your fault. Never said I could dance.” She huffed, squeezing his hand. His palm was warm and rough against hers.

Bucky tugged her up with a triumphant grin, “Luckily for you, I can dance well enough for the both of us.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she snorted.

Immediately he lifted his arm and spun her. She tripped twice, but then he caught her waist and steadied her, laughing. She couldn’t help but giggle with him as he helped her stand back up right. Bucky kept his left hand on her hip, his right guided her through the steps. It was a miracle that she only stepped on his toes once. To which she had given him a well-deserved ‘I told you so’ look. She kept a hand on his shoulder and focused on his feet after that.

Two more turns passed, and he brought up his hand, tipping her chin to meet his eyes, “Just watch me doll.” The endearment had her burning and tingling from head to toe. Then he started to sing quietly along with the end of the second chorus and she grinned at the exaggerated expressions he was making. All wide eyes and silly faces. Probably for her benefit. To make her feel less awkward.

_“I didn’t know I was broken ‘till I wanted to change._  
_I wanna get better, better, better, better_  
_I wanna get better.”_

They sang the bridge together, and he started to lead her through more complicated steps. Their voices and subtle movements started to match. Slowly, Y/N could read his body language and follow him into the next push or pull. It reminded her of relinquishing control with watercolor. The pigments naturally blend to create something new and wild. If she let herself go, maybe her and Bucky could do that too. Their colors could mix and harmonize in amazing spirals until everything changed into something different. It scared her a little. How much Bucky had already started to change her. Change her colors.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she was changing him too.

A few twirls sent her close to the booths parallel with their own, but he never let her hit them. She spun her around so that her back was to his chest, resting against him for a minute as he swayed her. Bucky’s cheek brushed her hair. His arms crossed around her, against her stomach. He held her tightly for a couple beats. Tight like she was about to slip away, even as he supported most of her weight. Then guided her back around. Every time he brought her just a bit closer, she thought her heart might give out. Her boots slid across the checkered floor. Bucky made her feel weightless.

Rita’s was shaped like a large L, a small divider between their line of booths and the rest of the diner. One end held the jukebox, straight down the aisle, to the other end, were the bathrooms and entrance to the kitchen. They were the only ones commanding the area, and Bucky swept her through the entire space. Never strayed towards the counter or the other customers.

Much to her relief.

He was such a good dancer and she should have known. Still, she was impressed. Maybe even a little blown away. When he straightened his arm to spin her out and back in the second time, she didn’t trip. Just came back to him in time for the guitar solo. As the guitar solo filled the air, he grinned and lifted her up by the hips. Her hands landed on his shoulders and she squealed. He spun her in a circle up above the booths. A huge grin made his eyes bright as he stared up at her. It made his nose wrinkle and teeth show. Just one long turn before gently bringing her down. The song slowed, and her arms slipped around his neck.

Their chests were pressed together, and she was a little breathless. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Slowly, hesitantly, his head came down until his forehead brushed against hers, his nose lightly against her own. Bucky was still smiling as he sang the last part.

_“Woke up this morning early before my family_  
_From this dream where she was trying to show me_  
_How a life can move from the darkness_  
_She said to get better”_

Y/N was whispering along to the lyrics, but mostly listening to the soft timber of Bucky’s voice. His breath fanned across her face and smelled like coffee. They were spinning in a slow circle, smiles gone. Longing made her chest ache, and she studied his unreadable expression. Everything else faded back and she found herself entirely transfixed on him. Then he pulled back just a little and brought his hand up, fingers to his temple in the sign of a gun. Another mischievous smirk made her gape at him in astonishment.

_“So I put a bullet where I shoulda put a helmet  
And I crash my car 'cause I wanna get carried away”_

Instantly, she slapped his hand from his head, and despite trying to be stern, she laughed when he spun away from her. Let her go and turned, arms thrown out into the air dramatically. He cupped his hands around his mouth, head back, pretending to shout, but didn’t actually raise his voice above the music. The motion still had her holding her stomach in laughter. Tears in her eyes.

_“That's why I'm standing on the overpass screaming at myself  
Hey, I wanna get better!”_

They sang the last chorus together, Bucky’s arms back around her. She ran her hands up his chest until her fingers could brush through the soft hair at the base of his neck. They just shuffled their feet in slow circles at this point. The last chords of the song played behind them, and they watched each other for a minute. Y/N felt the shift in the air again. Tension that was becoming familiar. A tightening in her chest. Like the building, charging high notes of a symphony, waiting to crash down into the tremendous climax. Waiting with trepidation and barely contained need. His pale blue eyes were locked on hers and he was so close. Their foreheads touched again, and he was radiant. Too alive and beautiful for the dimly lit diner they were in. She wanted to know every inch of him. Oh god she wanted to kiss him.

Bucky’s hands slowly slipped from around her back to just her sides. Her shirt was hiked up and she could feel the contrasting warmth and coolness of his grip against her bare skin. The material of the glove and his calluses scratched against her skin. Lightly, temptingly, his thumb brushed across her side, sending warmth dancing from every point of contact. The solid hold he had on her was the only thing keeping her grounded. Eyebrows drawn low, he watched her with a curious intensity, like he was working up to say something. Y/N licked her lips and waited on baited breath. Hope crept up on her.

Then the song died out, and a loud applause filled the air. She jumped back from him, startled, and turned to see everyone in the diner watching them. Granted, it was only like 8 people at most, but her entire body felt like it was on fire. For not so good reasons.

She gave a sheepish wave and Bucky moved to stand beside her. It felt like they had been caught doing something bad. Even though nothing had really happened. He slung his arm over her shoulders and he hugged her against his side. Almost protectively.

After a couple seconds of cheers, he pulled her down into a bow. The weight of his arm making her dip at the waist with him. She couldn’t help but laugh then, the embarrassment disappeared. The applause finally died out, and Gloria swept over with a huge piece of apple pie.

“You two were just amazing!” She gushed, and Y/N slowly sank back down to her seat, running a hand through her hair. Once she sat down, she was mostly out of sight from everyone else on the other side of the diner. Thankfully.

Bucky just smiled graciously and chuckled, “Aw you’re too sweet.” He shrugged, “Just having a bit of fun.” He stood beside the table, practically towering over the waitress. The jukebox continued to another song. Probably paid for a few in advance. This one was softer and sweeter, but Y/N didn’t recognize it.

“Well the pie is on me.” Gloria tacked on, laying the rest of their check on the table, “For making my night.” She stepped back, heels clicking against the tile floor. Her smile was sweet, and her eyes kept glancing up at Bucky, obviously smitten.

“You really don’t have to do that.” Y/N protested, but Gloria waved her off. An expression of no-room-for-negotiation. It made her feel really grateful but a bit guilty too. She didn’t like the idea of taking the woman’s money. She bundled the edge of her shirt in her hands and tugged it now, absentmindedly trying to straighten it out.

“Really I don’t mind. Just have a happy Thanksgiving. And please, take your time.” Then she spun away, humming to herself with a little rhythmic bounce in her step. Y/N watched her disappear around the corner and slip in behind the counter. Gloria laughed at something one of the truckers said.

Bucky thanked her as she left before flopping down in the booth opposite of her. The action made the table shake a little and she felt his foot lightly hit hers as he stretched his long legs out. She kicked back at it, glaring playfully. He smiled and shook his head, and ignored her, “Think that was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” He picked up his fork and pointed to her own.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N took up hers and together they attacked the apple pie, which had two scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side, “Do you always randomly get girls to dance with you in the middle of obscure places?” She asked sarcastically, taking a bite. It really was amazing pie.

“Not too often. I save it for special occasions.” Bucky winked at her, drinking some coffee to wash down a particularly big mouthful. He scooped up some ice cream and sucked it off his fork, letting it linger in his mouth. There was a level of flirting here that had her stunned. Obviously, he was kidding around but it caught her off guard. He’d never done it so boldly before.

Her conversation with Darc kept bouncing through her head. Like an annoying lyric on repeat. This felt a little like a date, but she logically she knew it wasn’t, “Well you should dance more often. You’re pretty good at it.” But she wished it was.

Bucky nodded, gathering up some lose pieces of apple onto his fork, “Mn, I used to go dancing with Dot whenever we had any spare cash and time. I loved it. And not just club dancing. I made her learn swing with me too.”

Her heart dropped, and she suddenly remembered why he wasn’t available. He was still getting over his ex. Didn’t even want to date. She tried to keep her expression neutral, “Why don’t you dance more?” Y/N sat her fork down and took a sip of her sprite. It was mostly melted ice now. But it gave her something to do with her hands.

“When I got back, I just didn’t have much of an interest in it.” Bucky shrugged, pushing around a bit of melted ice cream on the plate, “Steve tried, even though he hates it. But he had his own stuff going on too. If I met with any of my boys,” He paused and frowned, twirling his fork in the air and explained, “The guys from my unit. We always just go to a bar, or something.” He stared at her for a minute, studying her reactions.

There was something she wanted to say, building up in her chest, but she still didn’t know if it was a good idea. They could go dancing. He could teach her. Even if she wasn’t good at it, “Well maybe Steve would wanna try again. We could—”

Y/N’s phone started vibrating from where it was resting, forgotten in her coat. It was muffled by the thick fabric, and she cursed, “Sorry!” She dug it out, ready to reject the call, but then paused, “Is it ok if I take this? It’s my friend, and he only calls me when it’s important.” Her eyes flickered from the phone to his face, eyebrows drawing together and feeling a little guilty.

Bucky shrugged, focusing back in on the pie, “Ya don’t worry about it.” He didn’t seem too bothered by it, so she let out a small sigh of relief.

“Thanks Buck.” The phone was still ringing in her hand, luckily the ringtone was quiet, and she quickly answered it, bringing it up to her ear, “Hey! Peter! What’s up?” An unconscious smile spread across her face and she stared out the window.

Peter sounded like he was also grinning on the other end, “Hey!” She could hear Aunt May yelling something after him and then a THUMP as he shut his bedroom door, “Hey Y/N! I’m so glad you answered.” She shook her head fondly at the excitement in his tone.

“Long time no talk. Stark finally giving you a day off?” It had been almost a month since she last got to see Peter. When he moved back to New York, they vowed to see each other more, but between their schedules it didn’t happen often. Maybe once a month, if they were lucky. But they were still best friends, despite it all.

“Ya! That’s why I’m calling you. I’m home for Thanksgiving, but I’m comin’ back tomorrow. Don’t have work till Monday. I was wonderin’ if you wanted to do something.” She could hear him flop back on his bed, letting out a loud puff of air. Even though she hadn’t been to his house in Queens in years, she would bet his bedroom looked the same as it did in high school.

Y/N glanced up at Bucky, he was thumbing through his phone and absently eating. She picked up her fork and bumped it against his, swiping a bite. He scowled at her and made sure his next bite was huge. She held back a snort before replying, “Ya I’d love to.” Bucky watched her for another minute, smiling, and then went back to his phone.

“Cool! We should go to Skateaway. Haven’t been there in a while.” Skateaway was a roller rink for adults and teens. It had a bar, rollerblading, amazing junk food, and an arcade. They used to drive up to the city just to go when they were in high school. An idea suddenly popped into her mind and she smiled.

She covered the mouth piece of her phone and stared imploringly at Bucky. Who raised his eyebrows suspiciously, “Hey! So, my friend Peter wants to go to Skateaway tomorrow. Have you ever been?”

Bucky blinked at her and shook his head, “No? Can’t say I have. Why?” He sat down his fork, the plate scattered with crumbs and melted ice cream puddles.

“Wanna go? It’ll be fun. I think you and Peter will really like each other.” She knew she was probably looking way too eager, but the idea of one of her oldest friends meeting Bucky was exciting. Plus, Bucky on roller-skates had to be interesting.

Bucky frowned, “I don’t know. I’ve never been roller-blading before.” He slumped back into the booth, phone down in his lap. She lifted her foot and kicked at one of his, making him kick back and scowl at her, offended.

Peter piped up from over the phone, “Y/N?”

“Hang on sorry.” She turned back to Bucky and gave her best begging face, “C’mon it’ll be fun. Please?” Tilting her head, she stuck out bottom lip and made her eyes very wide. Obnoxiously giving him a puppy face. Maybe she was a sad puppy after all. Damn Darcy.

Bucky rubbed at his face, running a hand through his hair and groaning, “I’m going to regret this. I know it. I’m gonna break my wrist falling and fail out of Mr. Ramsey’s class. Waste all the money I paid for it and it’ll be all your fault.” He jabbed his finger in her direction. Pieces of hair fell across his forehead and he tried to shake them from his eyes.

She grinned, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

Focusing back in on her phone, she sighed, “Hey sorry about that. So, you remember Bucky?” The man in question narrowed his eyes at her, realizing she talked about him. She glared back and waved him off silently.

“Ya, your art partner that’s super inspiring. What about him?” She blushed a little at Peter’s comment.

“Well, I was hoping you might wanna meet him. He could join us at Skateaway.” Y/N explained, taking a drink. The condensation made her hand wet and she wiped it on her jeans. Her eyes scanned the diner. One of the waiters was washing the now-empty counter. Another gathered up plates from where the older couple had been sitting.

There was a long pause before Peter finally replied, “Oh ya, sure that would be cool. Gotta check out the guy that’s responsible for your grade.” She giggled at the protective tone he took on, “So, tomorrow night?”

Y/N nodded, even though he couldn’t see, “Ya, I’ll see you then. Text me what time you wanna meet up.”

“Sure thing. Later.”

The call ended, and she tucked her phone back into her coat pocket. Bucky was staring out the window, frowning, like he was thinking about something unpleasant. He didn’t notice the quiet that followed her putting her phone away, his eyes were far away again.

Fiddling with her fingers in her lap, she frowned at him, “Something wrong?” She didn’t know whether it was a good idea to pry or not. His sudden shift in mood made her feel a bit guilty. Like somehow it was her fault. Even if she didn’t understand why.

Bucky jerked, as if snapped out of a trance, “What? Oh, no.” He shook his head, but she didn’t believe him. Slowly, he shifted back in his seat to face her and gave a weak smile.

“If you had plans tomorrow, you don’t have to come.” She promised, making a hesitant guess. A strand of hair fell in her face and she brushed it back. Outside, a car honked loud and long, and someone shouted a few curses. Noisy despite the late hour.

Bucky quickly shook his head, “No, no I’m free.” He paused and shrugged, messing with one of his sleeves and rolling it neatly back up to his elbow, “I was just thinking that maybe I could invite a friend for you to meet too.” It felt like he was changing the subject, steering it away again, but she let him.

Intrigued, she sat up a little straighter and leaned forward against the table, “Really?” A bundle of nerves and anxiety swept through her stomach, making her vaguely nauseous.

Bucky snorted at the barely-contained excitement in her tone, “I was thinking maybe Steve? I’d kill to see his big ass fall over some skates.” He chuckled darkly, finishing off his coffee and tugging out his wallet. He thumbed through it, not looking at her as he sorted through his money.

Y/N watched him and nodded even though he wasn’t looking, “I would love to meet Steve.” After a minute, she stood up from the booth when he began gathering his stuff. “He sounds like a really awesome guy.” She tacked on as she slipped on her sweater and then her coat over top of it. The bottom of her sweater peeked out from under the hem of her jacket.

Bucky smiled, the darkness in his expression fading away as he tugged his leather jacket back on, “I’ll see if he can come then.” He moved his empty coffee cup and sat it on the edge of Gloria’s generous tip.

 

 

A few minutes later, they stepped out of Rita’s diner, and she followed him down the sidewalk, “Wanna walk off some of that pie?” Bucky asked, hands stuffed in his pockets. The wind made his hair ruffle and he zipped his jacket up.

It was bitterly cold outside, and the wind nipped at her nose and ears. Still, she nodded, “I’d love to.” The cold didn’t matter all that much if she got to spend a few more minutes feeling like this. Content and happy and most importantly alive.

Their steps broke the silence as they crossed the street and kept walking. Eventually, Bucky broke her from her train of thought and asked, “What are you thankful for this year?” It was such a random question that her steps stumbled and she blinked up at him. Harsh light from a lamppost haloed around his head as he raised his eyebrows at her, interested.

Shaking her head, Y/N kept walking and blew out a breath. She watched as it faded up towards the night sky and finally answered, “Change.” Cars slowly crawled by, their headlights bathing Bucky in red, and gold. He was staring up at the skyscrapers high above when she replied, and he briefly smiled.

Then whistled long and low, “Wow, way to be cryptic. What kind of change?” Bucky looked down at her, his shoulder bumping hers when she wrinkled her nose in thought, “Don’t overthink it. Just be honest.” The sweet, insistent tone in his voice had her mouth opening before she really thought about it.

“Change like you.” Bucky paused, and she was forced to step closer to him at the edge of the sidewalk so other people could get by. They were next to a strip mall. It was closing for the night and shoppers with lots of bags and loud conversations forced their way around her when she stopped. She shrugged, embarrassed, “I’m thankful for meeting you. Meeting new people and experiencing new things. Learning new things. Ya, know. Change.” Nervously, she looked up at him only to dart her eyes away again. They were close enough the toes of her shoes touched his and if she leaned forward any further she could lean against him. Almost had to crane her neck all the way back to meet his eyes.

Clearing his throat, Bucky puffed out his cheeks and chuckled, “Well you blew my answer outta the water. I was just gonna say I’m thankful for free pie, but now—” His hands came out of his pockets in an overly dramatic shrug and slapped against his legs when he dropped his arms.

“It’s ok. Pies good too.” Y/N brushed him off, laughing along and turned to start walking again. She got maybe a single step away. Bucky caught her arm and tugged her back. She stumbled and squawked is surprise, her back hitting his chest. Any protests that came to mind died on her tongue when he spoke.

“I’m grateful for you too.” His words brushed hot against her ear and she froze, not looking at him as she listened. Instead, she stared up at the lights of the skyscrapers. They were like glittering stars for the city. Bucky paused and finally finished, “I’m glad you’re my friend.” Then he let go of her arm and placed his across her shoulders. The motion tugged her against him and he started walking. Had he ever actually called her his friend before?

Not a single moment came to mind. This was probably the first. Her chest felt too-tight again and she was warmer. Whether from Bucky’s words, or his body heat, she had no idea. Still, the emotions he made her feel were consuming her. Like she was getting covered in his colors. If she wasn’t careful, she might get lost in them. Lost in him.

But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.


	5. Shades of Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing so many characters at once. Geeze that was more complicated than I first pictured in my head. All the interactions in this chapter were a lot of fun to write.  
> I hope you like it! As always, comments would be appreciated.  
> You can see the mood board for this chapter [here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/178265228188/your-colors-ch5).

Inside, the air smelled like leather, shoe polish, and some chemical cleaner. It was 8pm on the nose when Y/N arrived at Skateaway. Traffic hadn’t been too terrible, which was a blessing considering her destination was all the way in Brooklyn. Near Sternberg Park to be exact. She had taken the subway part of the way and the rest was covered with a taxi. The lobby was decently full for an Adult’s Night, mostly other college kids old enough to enjoy the ability to drink and skate. Even if it wasn’t the smartest pastime.

The vaulted ceiling shone gold from soft fluorescent lights. There were several gaudy neon signs that announced their name, and a few vintage ones hung across the walls. Like Coca-Cola, Beer Here (an arrow pointing to the open bar), Skate Night, and Arcade (with an arrow that pointed up). The colors were flashy, and bright. There were several high windows near the entrance. She could see the dark parking lot, a few lamp posts breaking up the deep blue shadows.

After paying her admission fee, she plopped herself down on one of the benches, dropping her dark green gym bag beside her feet. The lobby had a concession stand, skate rental stop, restrooms, and an open bar. A white wall separated the lobby from the rollerblading area with three wide swinging doors to break up traffic. Even from where she was sitting, she could hear the base of the music playing beyond the barrier. Upstairs, there was a small pizzeria sharing space with the arcade and above that, on a floor of its own, was the laser tag arena.

Skateaway was huge.

Y/N checked her phone, knee bouncing nervously. A message from Peter let her know that he was almost there, and one from Bucky informed her that he was running a little late. Apparently, Steve didn’t get home from work on time. Tucking her phone into her spacious bag, she went ahead and slipped off her sneakers, trading them out for her scuffed up rollerblades.

“Still got those old things?” There was a teasing smile behind the words that she could already imagine before she even looked up. Peter stood at the end of the table, shouldering an MIT bag and grinning down at her. Instantly, she dropped the rollerblade she was holding back onto her bag.

Standing up, Y/N immediately took three steps and met him in a tight hug. Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed her side-to-side enthusiastically, almost tugging her off her socked feet, “I missed you!” She exclaimed, pulling back just so he could see her glare, “Tell Stark to back off on all that grunt work. You have a right to a life.”

Peter smiled sheepishly and followed her over to the wooden bench, it was more like an indoor picnic table. Splinters and all. He sat his bag next to hers and took a seat close enough that their shoulders brushed. It was familiar and comforting to be next to her oldest again. Slowly, he unzipped his blue coat and laid it on top of the table behind him before looking at her again. Peter shook his head, trying to be serious but his lips were still turned up at the edges, “It won’t be forever. Mr. Stark’s already promised that I’ll be getting a promotion soon. When that happens, my pay’ll be better, and I’ll actually be able to afford less hours.” He shrugged, leaning forward so that he could unlace his shoes.

Just like every other time she hadn’t seen him a while, Y/N took a moment to give him a once over. She curled her toes against the soft carpeted floor as her eyes quickly ran over him. Peter liked to work himself too hard. When it got bad, he wouldn’t take care of himself. Sometimes he forgot to eat or sleep or even go outside for days on end. It made her feel better to be able to see him in person and really make sure he was alright.

Texts just couldn’t do it sometimes.

Every time she saw him, he was somehow just a hair taller. Surpassing her easily at this point. Still young enough that he hadn’t stopped growing. His shoulders were broadening out, and, thankfully, it appeared he was eating because he wasn’t getting too thin. His hair was too long again, unruly strands fell across his forehead when he bent over. Obviously, he needed a haircut. Unsurprisingly, he was still handsome. Maybe even more so then when they were in high school.

“You look good. Doing ok?” Y/N asked after he trailed off, she busied herself with putting on her own rollerblades. Her and Peter both had inline street skates, which made them more durable than typical recreational skates, but not as heavy-duty as ones used for hockey. Perfect for skating inside or at the park. They liked both.

Still focused on tightening his laces, Peter glanced over at her briefly through his bangs, “Mn ya I’m alright. Made a few friends at work but I miss you and Ned a lot.” He finished with his laces and stuffed his shoes, phone and wallet into his bag, zipping it up.

Mirroring him, Y/N shoved her jacket away and kicked her bag under the table, where people were less likely to mess with it. There weren’t any lockers, but there were cameras. Then she turned on the bench so she could face him. Her fingers curled around the silver chain of her necklace, twisting the amethyst pendant on the end, “Well I’m not going anywhere. So, do what you gotta do and I’ll be here when you’re done. Ok?” She bumped her knee against his, making him chuckle, and he nodded.

“I know. That’s why you’re my favorite. Don’t tell Ned.” Peter mock-whispered, making her laugh. He knocked his knee back against hers, watching her play with the crystal. His smile was so warm that she could feel the heat of it in her heart.

Over his shoulder, Y/N spotted a very familiar person and she stood up, wobbling a little as she adjusted to balancing on skates again. Bucky and a blonde, probably Steve, stood just inside the lobby, gawking around with equal looks of confusion and trepidation on their faces. Bucky spotted her first and nudged Steve with his elbow, gesturing to her. She waved.

As they headed over, weaving through an even number of people on skates and people running to get skates, Y/N strode around Peter and strolled over. The carpet was meant to be plush and rough enough to walk with blades on. It just took her a minute to get used to being significantly taller. Once she reached them, halfway across the lobby, she held out her hand to Steve.

Steve was tall. Taller than Bucky and broader with soft blonde hair and equally soft blue eyes. He was handsome. But it was the tender, pleased, barely-there smile on Bucky’s face that made her heart skip. Not the nervous grin Steve gave her. He took her hand and they firmly shook. Pleased, he released her and schooled his expression, “So you’re the infamous Y/N who’s been stealing my friend.” Steve stated, immediately making Bucky scowl. His tone was disapproving, but his eyes were kind.

Y/N dropped his hand and pressed hers dramatically to her chest, “Guilty! It’s not my fault. He’s the one who can’t get anything done without me there.” She smirked at Bucky, who gaped at her. Outraged.

“Sounds about right. You should try living with him. Can’t even pick up after himself.” Steve nodded sagely, crossing his arms. Humming in understanding, she curled the end of her hair around her finger thoughtfully, biting her lip to keep her amusement at bay. She already liked him.

Bucky rolled his eyes and obnoxiously groaned, “God I’m already regretting introducing you two!” He threw his hands up in frustration, jabbing a finger at the two of them, glaring, “If you start ganging up on me, I swear you’ll regret it.” Y/N giggled at the way his jaw clenched and he punched Steve’s shoulder when he only laughed with her. Steve cursed and rubbed his arm.

Subtly, Peter brushed his arm against hers, right behind her. Bucky and Steve look over her shoulder. She smiled sheepishly and turned her head, “Oh! This is my friend Peter.” She waved back towards him and then pointed in turn, “Bucky and Steve.”

Peter stepped up beside her and shook both of their hands. A little nervous, but still very friendly, he stated, “It’s great to finally meet you.” He nodded his head towards Bucky and then smiled conspiratorially at Steve, “You’re not the only one having a friend swiped away.”

Steve chuckled, “I’m not surprised.”

Somewhat insulted, Y/N elbowed Peter in the ribs, “I am not being swiped away you big baby.” She laughed when Peter swatted at her arm, shoving her. She stumbled, nearly bumping into two guys chatting loudly as they walked by, but just managed to avoid impact. She gave Peter the stink eye and, not-so-subtly, changed the subject, “Anyway! You can rent your skates from over there.” She pointed to the short line of people working their way up to the first counter near the door. Behind it, an exhausted looking older man ran back and forth to the shelves of skates and impatiently waiting customers.

“Are you guys gonna get quads or inlines?” Peter asked, crossing his arms over his light hoodie. Y/N stood beside him, and every minute or so, he dug his finger into her ribs, making her jump and slap at his hand. She tried to not take her attention off Steve or Bucky, not wanting to be rude. Still, she kept eyeing him suspiciously from her peripherals. Every time she shuffled to the side, he just followed her.

No matter how old he got, he was still a brat.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, studying the interaction. He looked tense and only grew tenser when Peter poked her again. Looking away, he shoved his hands deeper into his leather jacket, quiet. Steve glanced over at him, frowned and then replied, raising his eyebrows at Peter, “What’s the difference?” He unzipped his heavy navy colored jacket, revealing a light grey, long sleeve shirt. Rolling the sleeves up to his elbows, he draped his jacket over his arm, holding it in front of him.

“The quads work just fine for indoors. They’ve got four wheels spread out to help you balance.” Y/N explained, “We use inlines,” She lifted her foot, hand touching Peter’s shoulder to help balance so she could show them the underside of her skate, “They’re faster and we can do tricks in them,” She paused and snorted, shaking her head, “Well… try.”

Lips pressed together thoughtfully, Steve nodded, looking between Bucky and her, “Guess I’ll just stick to the quads,” He shrugged, a little mischievous, “This time anyway. Buck?”

Bucky tensed, meeting Steve’s eyes and glancing over at Y/N from the side, but he addressed Steve, “Inlines. Can’t be that hard.” He did look over between her and Peter at that. Then he turned and headed over to the line. Well, stalked might be more accurate. Steve frowned, eyebrows coming together and met her eyes, his a little wide, but then followed Bucky without a word. That was weird.

For a minute, she watched as Steve talked to Bucky in hushed tones. She couldn’t hear, but it looked uncomfortable. Bucky kept turning away from Steve, shrugging, and giving short replies. Steve eventually stopped talking and stared up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. They were quiet after that. It felt like she had done something wrong, but that was ridiculous. She hadn’t even said much since they got here.

Peter whistled, “Well they seem nice.” There was just a hint of sarcasm in his tone that made her a bit queasy. He turned to face her, head cocked to the side just fraction.

“He is.” She insisted, confused, “He’s just, hard to get to know. Around new people and stuff.” Y/N assured, smiling at Peter, “Just give him a bit. He’ll open up.”

Peter stared at her for a minute, eyebrows together seriously, but then his fingers snapped out and dug into her ribs and he broke into a grin. She doubled over, whining and giggling, “Stoooooppppp!~” She cried, catching his hands and shoving them away. He did no such thing.

Off balanced, she stumbled back from him to their table. He kept up with her, poking at her neck, stomach, and sides. Hastily, she collapsed down onto the bench and pulled up her knees to keep him at bay, “I will kick your face. Right off Parker. I swear to god.” Y/N threatened, glaring at him. Her chest was heaving for air.

Entirely too amused, Peter snickered to himself and held up his hands in surrender, “Ok! Ok! I’m done.” When she just continued to eye him suspiciously, he covered his heart, “I swear on my Spiderman comic book collection. You’re safe.”

 

 

Another ten minutes passed, and they finally had everyone settled. Their stuff safely packed away, skates all around, they slowly made their way into the arena. Peter and Y/N each helped balance someone far bigger than them. Peter had Steve’s hand propped onto his shoulder, both his arms out as he kept Steve upright. They kept nervously glancing at each other. Every few steps, Steve stumbled and apologized. Peter just shook his head and chuckled.

Y/N did the same with Bucky, her arm around his waist for good measure. The floor had enough traction that they could clumsily walk through to the swinging doors. The skating area was always amazing. The room was pitch black with lasers and flashing colorful lights filling the space. There was a second bar in there. Smaller, but lit up like a beacon with glowing green light fixtures that hung down from the ceiling. In the middle of the floor, taking up most of the room, was a wooden rollerblading area, polished to a shine. Big and full of laughing adults blasting around. There was a matt black wall barricade, topped with a wooden rail, for people to cling to if they wanted, and to keep skaters from flying out and hurting bystanders.

Tables, chairs, and benches cluttered around the barricade for onlookers, either too tired or too nervous to face the skating floor. Music blared from speakers overhead, loud and fast. Luckily, not so noisy that it made conversation impossible. It was just edging on chilly in there, but that was probably a blessing in disguise. It got hot once you got moving.

“This is a lot more… intense. Than I thought.” Steve cautiously confessed from her left. His eyes flickered around the room quickly, as if trying and failing to take it all in at once.  

“It’s great right?!” Peter exclaimed, laughing, “Come on! It’s a lot easier once you get on a smoother surface.” He urged, tugging Steve along. They got a few steps ahead, and Steve glanced back, a screaming ‘help me’ expression covering his features. Somehow, he was getting kidnapped by someone hilariously smaller. They morphed into fuzzy silhouettes, highlighted occasionally in streaks of light the further away Peter led them.

“Peter’s nice.” Bucky intoned, she was going at a much slower pace. It was fun to just watch Peter and Steve anyway. Plus, she didn’t want to somehow let Bucky fall. He might not skate with her if that happened. Her arm tightened around his waist when she felt him wobble, but he tensed and managed to stay upright.

Surprised, Y/N peered up at him and happily agreed, “Ya, we’ve been friends since high school.” His arm shifted to better hold balance over her shoulders. She could feel his heat as it seeped through her shirt and it sent goosebumps down her arms. Every time she took a breath, she could smell him, and her head was light from the proximity. Like she was high.

“Long time.” Bucky replied quietly. If they weren’t so close, she might not have heard him. There was something too-casual about his tone. Like he wanted to pry but didn’t want her to know he was prying. Y/N ignored it.

“I guess so. But it isn’t really how long you know someone that’s important. It’s what you do with the time.” She mused, finally reaching the gate that Peter was trying to coax Steve through. It was one of many. Wide open, the door propped against the inner wall. The floor shifted from black carpet to wood at the threshold. Colorful lights peppered across Steve’s face, highlighting the nervous grimace he was trying to hide.

Bucky released her, hobbling over to the wall. It was only hip height on Steve and him, up to the ribs on her. Peter was standing just inside, on the wood, holding one of Steve’s hands. Steve’s other hand was doing a death grip on the top of the wall. He leaned back, away from Peter, as if doing so would stop the inevitable.

“Gonna go in Stevie?” Bucky asked, snickering at the pale look on his face. Casually, Bucky propped his elbows on top of the wall, lounging back and taking up the space like he owned it. Confident and cocky in a way that she rarely got to see. Sure, he was closed off and self-assured in class. Alone with him, he was sweet, and even playful. Rarely, Bucky would show a bit of self-doubt. Sure, he probably always had his doubts. But he was never cocky. Maybe it was a guy thing. Something he did around Steve for fun.

“After you.” Steve joked, glaring at his friend. Peter had let go of his hand, and he graciously swept it out, sarcastically pulling a ‘go ahead’ gesture. He stepped back, out of the way of the gate, still wobbly as he stood on the quads.

“Ladies first.” Bucky shot back, a biting grin curving up his lips. She noticed two girls slowing as they skated by, bathed in a green spotlight. They took a good long look at his broad back. When he spotted them, he winked, and they nearly tripped over themselves giggling. Something inside of her pinched unpleasantly. He had never done that before either.

Y/N rolled her eyes and tactfully stepped forward, surprising them both, “Why thank you kindly!” Peter slid out of her way and she easily rolled in. It had been long enough that she glided out for a minute, allowing the skates to drive her forward and held her hands still as she gathered her balance. Moving without friction was always odd at first. Still, she picked it up faster now than before.

Turning, she skated in a circle, enjoying the way the lights trailed beams of color around her. It made her movements feel more ethereal and dreamlike. After she made a full circle in an empty space across the floor, she shot herself back over to where the boys were still huddled in a group by one of the gates. Her hands smacked against the barrier, right beside where Bucky was still leaning on the other side. It jarred her to a stop and made him flinch.

“Show off.” He accused, though she could see his smile. His head was tilted back and to the side, so he could look at her. Without thinking, Y/N reached forward and brushed his hair back from his forehead. It was soft, and his skin was warm under her touch. Bucky’s sharp eyes widened, and she froze for a half a second, fingers threaded in his hair, surprised herself.

Then she quickly grabbed his shirt sleeve and she tugged, distracting him, “Come show me up if you’re so annoyed about it.” Bucky turned to face her fully and she slid her grip down to his hand, holding onto his fingers instead. He let her.

“I wouldn’t wanna hurt your feelings.” Bucky retorted, smirking at her. She pulled his right hand off the wall and in the direction of the gate, but he didn’t step any closer. His hand felt firm and comforting in her own. A spiteful thought shot through her. She hoped those girls saw her holding his hand and got the very wrong idea.

“Don’t worry about my feelings. They can take it. I’m more worried about your sensitive pride. It’s gonna get all bent out of shape if you keep blowing hot air.” Y/N raised her eyebrows and heard Steve laugh. Bucky shot him a glare to the side. Specks of blue passed over his black shirt. Peter was chuckling too, and she smiled wider.

Just a few feet to her left, Peter exclaimed, “Come on Steve! You really gonna let her get Bucky out here first? It’s fun I promise.” He gave his absolute best pout. Sometimes it amazed her that he was literally a genius. What wasn’t so surprising, was the fact she was older than him.

Y/N turned and watched as Steve swallowed, taking a hesitant step forward. Slowly, he followed Peter through the gate. He kept both his large hands latched in Peters as he was tugged along. She grinned, thrilled, and called to him, “Don’t worry! The first fall is the wors—”

Steve’s feet started to slide too far forward, and he let go of Peter’s hands, flailing. Only to fall flat on his back, feet straight up. The wheels of the skates continued to rapidly spin, glinting in the spotlights. A resounding THUNK shot over the music. Y/N gasped and covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. The sight of him blinking accusingly up at the rollerblades above his head, as if it was there fault, shouldn’t be so funny.

He had only made it maybe 6 feet from the gate.

“You were going to say ‘Worst’ weren’t you?” Bucky dryly asked, raising his eyebrows. His thumb brushed across the inside of her wrist, drawing her attention back. Quickly, she shook her head in agreement, “You jinxed him.” He finished, turning back to Steve.

Taking in a breath, Bucky hollered, “Walk it off! You’re alright!” He smirked when Steve threw up an arm, flipping him off from his spot sprawled on the ground.

Peter took Steve’s hands and pulled him up to his shaky feet. Steve rubbed at the back of his head, wincing. Then Peter pulled him as swiftly as he dared back to the wall. At least he stayed on the skating floor. Didn’t immediately give up. Now it was just Bucky still standing on the opposite side. Steve clutched the rail again, hunched down, “Ya know. I think you’re right. Wasn’t so bad.” He bolstered, “Barely felt a thing.”

Steve cocked his head to the side and eyed Bucky challengingly, “You comin? Or you scared?” He drummed his hands against the rail, eyebrows raised and a smug little smirk on his lips.

Bucky scowled and dryly assured, “There’s a difference between being scared and having some sense left in your thick head.” But Steve’s long silence had him edging closer to the gate, muttering under his breath. Y/N let him pull her along on the other side by her hand. His white t-shirt glowed slightly from the blacklights and his thin black, unbuttoned shirt over it contrasted starkly. Still, he looked good. The sporadic lighting and deep shadows highlighted his sharp jaw and intense eyes.

Y/N wheeled over to meet him and held out her other hand. He glared at her, but it was more of a pout, no real heat behind it. Then he firmly held both her hands and stepped onto the polished oak. Immediately, his feet trembled, searching for traction. She could tell he was trying to take a step, “Stop! Stopstopstop.” She stuttered out, “This isn’t walking. You’re not gonna get anywhere trying that.”

“I’m not! I’m not walkin! Geeze.” Bucky protested, and she gently started skating backwards, pulling him with her. He squawked in surprise and jerked his hold onto her forearms, she held his elbows. That brought him closer to her, his head tilted down to watch their feet, strands of his hair tickled her nose and she stood up straighter to hopefully help him balance. And to try not to sneeze.

Other people skated around them, like water around a rock. Laughter shook through the air. Along with some whooping and hollering. It was a lively night and she could smell a hint of alcohol in the air. Which was probably making it bubblier.

“If you can’t get going, use baby steps, anything too big and you’ll trip. Now stand up straighter, you’re center of balance is important.” She persuaded, and he surprisingly listened, “You’ll control it with your upper body, but it should only be a little lower than when you normally walk, not in a full-on crouch.” Bucky straightened up, still keeping close to her, skates shoulder width apart under him.

Y/N glanced behind her to make sure she wasn’t about to run over anyone and slid them through a half-turn back towards the wall, “For you, it’ll be easier to make a turn if you lift your foot a little and lean the way you wanna go. Eventually, you can just use your weight to turn.”

One of the pink spotlights followed them around for a second, making Bucky’s gaze flicker up and he rolled his eyes, “What’s with the weird light show?” His mouth was pursed in concentration, teeth biting his bottom lip. She watched his lips, and then quickly looked away when he glanced up at her.

Shrugging, she watched as the spotlight moved away, “Dunno, just for entertainment I guess. Like the music.” His hands were warm on her bare arms. She was wearing a loose graphic tank top that was almost like a dress on her and leggings. Comfortable and easy to move in.

“Makes it hard to watch where you’re going. Can barely see my feet.” Bucky groused, and she snorted, amused. Slowly, she took them in another circle, following the curve of the wall now. Just around the perimeter of the arena. People skated slower here, aware that newbies clung to the wall for safety. A few braver people swung past them but kept a comfortable birth.

“Shouldn’t watch your feet anyway. It’s like dancing. Look where you want to go, it’ll help you keep your balance.” She elaborated, and her heart skipped when his eyes met her own. Darts of light cut across his cheekbone and lips, and he felt infinitely closer when they were nose-to-nose. For a second, she thought his eyes fell to her mouth. Maybe if she just brought him closer, he would close the aching space between them.

Bucky’s eyes darted away from her own. They had been staring for probably too long. Another beat of silence passed, and she checked over his shoulder. Peter and Steve were following them, slower and falling behind. Steve had one hand on the wall, another in Peter’s. They were making progress. Just gradual, shuffling progress, but at least he was trying again.

Tilting his head to see what she was looking at, Bucky sniggered, “Well isn’t that just cute. Stevie’s never been good at this kind of stuff. Give him a gun, bad guy, and solid ground and he’s great. But he has two left—”

An older guy swerved towards them out of the blue and Bucky jerked. Which made her lurch forward. In turn, Bucky flailed back, feet flying out from under him. He kept a death grip on her forearms, trying to hold his balance, but that just pulled her forward against his torso. He fell back, and she landed hard on top of him with an OOF as all the air jolted out of her. Her hands were up past his shoulders. Didn’t even have a chance to break her fall.

Distantly, she heard the asshole yell a high-and-mighty, “Watch it!” Y/N couldn’t see his expression, though, her face was smushed against Bucky’s chest. His legs bracketed her sides and he had, thankfully, cushioned her landing. Her knees felt pretty banged up and she was gasping for air, but it could have been worse.

“Are you ok?” Bucky groaned, his hand came up and brushed her hair back from her eyes. Shaking her head, she stared up at him and tried to answer, but she was laughing and couldn’t breathe. Not a fun combo. Concerned, he sat up halfway, making her move with him and she held her stomach. The noise that left her was a rattling intake of breath mashed with a silent giggle. Which only made him more worried, “Hey! Breathe for me alright? Did I hurt you?” His hands pressed on her shoulders, making her sit back so he could better look at her.

People skated by, staring down at them curiously. She shook her head again, finally taking in a lungful of sweet air, “I-I’m ok. Just—” A cough rattled her chest, and he squeezed her shoulders rubbing them, “Just lost my breath.” Her voice was a bit weak and rough, but she laughed, “That was so bad.” She wiped at her eyes, thankful she had skipped makeup today. She said ‘bad’ in the dark humor sort of way. It was bad, but it was hilariously bad.

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes, “Absolutely awful. I think I gonna have a bruise of your face on my chest.” He released one of his hands to rub at the offended area, grimacing. Still, his other hand brushed her hair from her face, tucking some strands behind her ear. The action made her flushed face burn darker.

“Are you ok?” Y/N asked, frowning. She reached out, touching his temple, “Did you hit your head too hard?” Her palm touched his cheek and brushed across the side of his head, through his hair.

Bucky blinked at her, going still. So still that she couldn’t tell if he was even breathing. Then brought his hand up and cupped it over hers, lingering for a second, “No, I’m fine. First falls the worst right?” He asked, smirking and slowly brought their hands down, “At least I got that out of the way.”

As if out of nowhere, Peter appeared beside them, cackling, “That was a great fail there. Wish I had a camera! You ok?” He spoke, as he often did, in bursts of unfiltered thought. Sweetly, he offered her his hand and she took it, letting him help her up. She let go of Bucky as she stood.

Scowling, she shoved Peter’s shoulder once she was upright, “If you wanna talk about fails, I think I remember a few hilarious ones of your own.” Her tone raised threateningly at the end and she smiled mischievously, as if plotting against him.

Just slightly terrified, Peter pouted at her and offered his hand down to Bucky, “Cause you don’t have just as many.” He sarcastically drawled, shaking his head. The hood of his jacket flopped up against his head, nearly putting itself on as he stooped down to help Bucky up.

As if not seeing the offer, Bucky pointedly stared down at his feet as he worked his way back up. Very slowly and very shakily, but he didn’t complain. Confused, Peter dropped his hand and stood back up, readjusting his hoodie. Then he looked back the way he had come.

Along the wall, Steve was hustling as fast as he could over to them. Peter laughed, cupping his hands around his mouth, “You’re doing great!” He shouted. Steve jolted, almost falling but caught himself, then lifted a shaky thumbs up. His smile was just as watery.

“I’m gonna see if I can get him away from the wall.” Y/N decided, looking at the two, “Think you can keep Buck from faceplanting?” She asked, Peter uncertainly glanced between her and Bucky, who was very quiet and stormy again. Maybe if she left them alone for a while, they could get to know each other more.

“You just want some alone time with America’s sweetheart.” Bucky snarked, and she frowned at him. He had his hands purposefully against his sides, stiffly straight. Tense and prickly. His eyes met hers, sparking with annoyance and a pale shade of green in the light that flashed over them. It didn’t make sense why his mood just kept switching on a dime.

Irritated, Y/N shook her head and glared at him in return, “Scratch that. Let him fall.” Then she turned away, skating towards Steve, and not giving Bucky a chance to respond. Steve appeared more than slightly relieved when she stopped in front of him. She offered the best smile she could muster, “Wanna try to let go of the wall?” She asked, holding out her hands.

“I don’t want to make you fall.” Steve offered sheepishly, standing up straighter now that he wasn’t trying to skate, “Buck already took care of that.” He glanced up over her head, and she looked back to see Bucky skating beside the wall. It seemed he was getting the hang of it, just keeping a hand on it to balance.

Peter was skating slowly beside him, keeping a safe distance and talking. She couldn’t tell how the conversation was going from this far away, in the dim lighting, but it didn’t look comfortable. Peter kept looking at him, and then away, both of their postures were tense.

Turning back to Steve, she shrugged, “Don’t worry. I won’t be mad if I fall for you.” Y/N made a ‘give me’ motion with her hands, eyes crinkled in the corners as she tried to persuade him.

Steve arched his eyebrows at her in question and she clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing how her sentence sounded. His eyes sparked with mirth, “Really? That’s awfully sweet of you.”

“That’s not! I mean— I didn’t mean it like that! Not that, there’s anything wrong with.” Y/N groaned in embarrassment and covered her face with her hands. Steve barked a laugh and she peeked at him through her fingers, “Can we just forget…?”

Colorful lights pulsed overhead to the beat of the music, and a younger man pushed past them against the wall. The force made Steve stumble closer to her, barely keeping upright. Slightly wobbly, Steve shook his head, finally offering her his hands, “Definitely not. That was too priceless.”

Begrudgingly, she clasped their fingers together and gently tugged him forward with her, “Some American sweetheart you are.” Her hair fell over her shoulders as she leaned her weight back, gliding her skates in long, slow strokes. Every so often, she would adjust her hold on his hands, making sure their grip was firm. If he let go, she would fall flat on her back.

Steve kept his eyes on her face, obviously Peter had given him some instruction, and stood still, just letting her pull him along, “God he will never let that go.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head, “That was years ago now.”

“What was?” Glancing over to Peter and Bucky, she was surprised to see that Bucky was off the wall. Through the flashing lights, she could just make them out on the other side of the rink. Peter was showing him how to properly stop.

“When I was still a private, I did this ad campaign for the U.S. Army. It wasn’t anything special. They just took some photos with me in my uniform, doing stuff everybody did,” He paused, staring up and thinking, before he added, “And a couple videos.” He shrugged, “But when it came out, the guys started calling me an American Sweetheart. Apparently, the campaign was a hit or something.” Steve ducked his head sheepishly, “I just needed some extra cash.”

Y/N giggled and squeezed his hands, “Well I think that’s pretty cool. Could be called worse.” She guided him into a turn, he wobbled but managed to stay upright. They made an S figure around a few other skaters.

Steve blew out a rough breath, “Ya well, the teasing was terrible.”

 

 

Maybe 10 or 15 minutes later, she finally let go of Steve’s hands, “Ok you’re doing fine. Just keep moving forward.” Some Selena Gomez song played overhead. It was a slower song and a few couples joined together to start dancing to it.

Steve grimaced, holding his arms out at his sides like an unbalanced penguin, “You make it sound like it’s easy.” His face contorted with concentration, feet shuffling forward with small baby steps.

“Come on! You got this. I thought you were a big bad police captain!” She teased, slowly backing up as he came towards her. She had her hands out in front of her, in case he suddenly started to fall. But so far, he was looking pretty good.

Steve was such a big contrast to Bucky. Like the sun to the moon. Steve was open and friendly right away. He didn’t hold his cards to his chest. She already knew more about him in five minutes than she knew about Bucky in their first few weeks together.

“This is different, and you know it.” Steve playfully scolded, giving her a serious chiding expression. She just cheekily beamed at him, and glided further away, gesturing for him to come to her. It felt like a toddler taking his first steps.

Peter slid up beside her while Steve slowly tried to reach her. No wall. Not holding anyone’s hand. All by himself. Peter hummed happily, “Looks like our padawans are doing well.” He side eyed her and snickered when she rolled her eyes at his lame joke.

“Where did yours get off to?” Y/N asked, not seeing Bucky anywhere. She twisted her hair off her neck, combing over one shoulder. It was getting hot. Sweat dampened parts of her skin.

Uneasy, Peter gestured across the room. Past the wall, she spotted Bucky’s back over at the bar. She frowned. He was buying a drink and chatting with the pretty bartender. Peter shrugged, “He was doing fine. I just don’t think he likes me very much.” The statement made her stomach twist again. It didn’t make sense. Pretty much everyone liked Peter. He was just one of those people that could make the devil smile.

Steve finally closed the distance and stood up straighter. More confident in his balance than before. Curious, he looked between them, eyebrows coming together at the double frowns he found, “What’s wrong?” At their silence, he just stared them down, unrelenting.

As best she could, Y/N forced a smile, making her voice light, “Nothing, just think Bucky might be tired of skating.” He eyed her, searching for a better explanation, and she pointed to the small bar, “Went to get himself a drink.”

Steve turned, and sighed, “I’ll go see what’s goin’ on.” He gave them a comforting, tight lipped smile. The kind a big brother might pull, and, weirdly enough, she did feel more at ease, “I’m sure it’s nothing.” But she didn’t believe that.

Then he was gone, bravely making his way to the nearest gate all on his own. He didn’t fall once. Only flailed when he tried to slow down. She felt strangely proud. Peter turned to her and offered his hand out, “Skate with me?” He gave her a teasing, goofy grin. The tension that was making her chest tight abated at the look and she interlaced their fingers together.

“Thought you would never ask.”

It was nice to just skate with Peter. Since it was just them, they went faster. The music blasted from overhead, and she allowed him to guide her. He started to follow the lights, making small, tight swerves to chase the specks of color. She laughed. They made a quick path around the perimeter of the arena, but just started to do it again.

Peter turned so he was skating backwards in front of her, their arms stretched out and keeping them connected. He pointed up to the ceiling and she frowned, listening for a second before she laughed. _I like Me Better_ by Lauv started up, singing about falling in love in New York City. Smoothly, Peter caught her other hand and then spun her.

Dancing in skates was easier than without. The momentum made her smoothly spin around until she was beside him, holding his one hand. Practiced, he guided her behind him and she transitioned over to his other side. She laughed when he pulled her forward to face him again, catching both her hands and started to exaggeratedly sway them back and forth. She lifted one foot to the side and then the other as she rocked.

Others were dancing with them, and it was like a dream. Or maybe a musical. Everything was technicolor and loud. They spun in a circle, keeping the scraping of their skates in rhythm to the music, and pulled close, then pushed out as far as their arms would let them. Y/N let go of one of his hands, guiding him to whirl around and behind her, switching hands. He glided beside her and started snapping his fingers to the song. She smiled, mirroring him.

Peter started mouthing along with the chorus. Repeating “I like me better when I’m with you” over and over. She couldn’t hear his voice, but the genuine look on his face made her stomach flip. They turned together, skating forward again, and he kept glancing over at her. This was how he looked at her their senior year. Like she was made purely of stardust and this was his wish come true. A blush warmed her cheeks and she had to drop her eyes.

Instead, she searched for their friends. The song was coming to an end and she felt guilty. Guilty that part of her was relieved. Bucky was standing with Steve on the other side of the wall. Next to the gate they had come through. They were watching them, propped up on the rail. Very different expressions twisted up their faces. Steve was smiling, but Bucky looked a thousand years away from smiling again.

She slowed, and tugged Peter’s hand, he frowned, bemused. Until she gestured over to the boys. His face cleared when he understood, and Y/N let go, skating over ahead of him. She squeezed her hands against her sides and silently prayed that nothing had changed just now.

Vehemently, she shoved away the heavy ick that clung to her skin, “Hey! Wanna come give it another try?” She asked, feigning amusement as she came to a stop in front of them. The roar of the skaters sounded rowdier now that she wasn’t part of them. They rushed behind her, gusts of air hit her back as some of them swept by.

“What was that?” Steve questioned in return, eyes round, “The next level of skating?” He propped his cheek in his hand and she shook her head. Her hands bunched up the end of her shirt, fidgeting with it. Her eyes kept peeking over at Bucky, wondering why he went to the bar at all. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, though. Just stared down at his phone, checking something.

Peter snorted, “Nah, just a little dancing. Nothing too hard.” He came up beside her and slung his arm over her shoulder. Usually, she didn’t mind, but something was different about it. Maybe it wasn’t even Peter, but the weight of Bucky’s stare made her feel uncomfortable. He looked up at the movement and there was a moment where she thought his fists clenched up and his face contorted in anger. But passed quickly and he was carefully blank again.

Ignoring it, Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against Peter, “Buuut, you really shouldn’t try it until you can stop properly and do a crossover turn at least.” Y/N tacked on, trying to disregard all her building anxiety, “I could show you some moves if you guys want?” The absolute confusion on Steve’s face made her smile just a bit.

“Ya there’s this really cool thing—” Peter started, waving his free hand as he explained, but Bucky cut in. Voice sharp and cold as winter wind.

“Actually, I’m kinda skated out for tonight.” He stared Peter down unwaveringly. It felt like Bucky was determined to look anywhere but directly at her. It made her feel awful. Like he was ignoring her and angry at Peter. For nothing.  

Y/N felt her stomach flip uncomfortably, a heavy silence followed Bucky’s statement. Everything felt awkward now. Peter was quiet beside her, and Steve glanced nervously between everyone. Determined, she made her words lighter than she felt and shrugged, “Well how about we get some food then. We could take a break and maybe skate some more later?” Subtly she slipped from Peter’s grasp, opened the gate, and Steve gave her a grateful smile. Whatever was upsetting Bucky, she wouldn’t let it get to her. Whenever she finally had a chance, she would ask him what was wrong then.

“Sure, sounds good.” Steve agreed, pointedly he gazed over at Bucky. Waiting for him to see something else. It didn’t seem to even phase him, though.

Bucky just turned around and walked past her, “Ya whatever.” He headed in the direction towards the lobby, skates already off. The laces were bunched up in his one hand and they swung down by his calves.

All the music and lights and people felt almost claustrophobic now. Y/N held the gate open for Peter, who stepped out and grumbled, “What’s his problem?”

Both her and Peter turned their attention to Steve, who rubbed a hand over his face and shrugged, “I have no idea.”

 

 

Conversation flowed somewhat rocky and with a few uncomfortable pauses after that. They happened just about every time Bucky opened his mouth. It wasn’t that he ever said anything outright mean but he didn’t really say anything good either. Everything was mostly, negative. Negative and rude. Luckily, Steve picked up the slack and seemed to get along well with Peter.

Steve probably got along with anyone, though.

Y/N finished off the crust of her third slice, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt slender arms wrap around her shoulders, “Surprise!” The exclamation boomed right in her ear and she recognized the speaker almost immediately.

“Who the hell? Darcy??!” Y/N turned in her worn metal chair, eyes widening at the impish grin that lit up her friend’s face, “What are you doing here?” Her hands clasped the back of the chair hard, mouth dropping open.

Darcy stood up straight, crossing her arms and nodded towards the three people hovering beside her, “Needed something to do. Sides, who doesn’t like skating?” Her hair was in one long braid, makeup highlighted her eyes and full lips, and her blouse hugged her body perfectly. Darcy looked splendid.

Y/N immediately recognized Jane as she stood up to greet her friend. Jane smiled and waved. First, she hugged Darcy, and then hesitated only a second before Jane met her with a warm embrace. Sweet and beautiful just like she remembered. All perfectly wavy hair, and bright, intelligent eyes. Dressed simply in a plaid shirt and jeans, she was picturesque.

On Jane’s other side was yet another very large blond, even bigger than Steve, with silken hair pulled back into the best definition of a manbun, lose strands framed his tan face and accented his tamed beard. How many devastatingly handsome people did she have to meet today? From the way that Jane stepped back and took his arm, she understood that he must be her boyfriend. Darcy had mentioned that her roommate had been preoccupied lately. Now she understood why.

“Well I most certainly don’t see the fun.” The snarky comment came from another striking man standing unassumingly next to the blonde. He was a bit smaller, lither than the other, but no less toned. Just not as built. His skin was pale, jet black hair styled back from his face, and down to his broad shoulders. He worse dark clothes that complimented his body and were undoubtedly expensive name brands.

“That’s not fair. You don’t think anything’s fun.” She was startled by how full and warm the blonde’s voice was when he playfully shoved at the paler man’s shoulder, making him stumble. The laugh filled up the small space of the pizzeria, making a few of the other patron’s stare. He didn’t even notice. His grin was white and broad, not even dimming when his friend gave him a sharp glare.

Darcy giggled, “Ok you already know Jane. This is her boyfriend Thor, and his brother Loki.” She lifted her hand, waving at the two. Unperturbed when Loki rolled his eyes at the introduction. Thor waved.

The florescent lights of the room were dim at best, feeding into the comfortable mood of the arcade just past the spacious dividing wall. Distantly, she could hear a mixture of laughter and cursing from the other half of the floor. There was no eating in the gaming area, so patrons hurried back and forth. Taking pizza breaks in between playing.

Y/N stared at them blankly for a minute, “Thor? And Loki?” Their names were odd at best. She had thought the nickname ‘Bucky’ was unique. These brothers had that beat. She stepped back towards her table, sneakers quiet on the tiled floor, and picked up her coke.

Jane nodded, “Family tradition.” She slid a hand down and interlaced her fingers with Thor’s. The sweet look he gave her made Y/N’s mouth feel dry, she took a drink and ignored the irrational bite of jealousy. They were cute together.

“Our ancestors are Scandinavian. Father’s big on tradition.” Thor shrugged, unphased by the obvious confusion. He probably got it a lot.

That made sense, except, “So you’re named after the god of thunder and your father decided to name you after the evil god of mischief?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, gesturing over to Loki. She sat her drink back down and tucked her hands into the pockets of her open jacket. After getting their stuff, she had slipped it back on.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Actually, my father named me something far worse. I choose to go by Loki instead.” He waved a hand in the air. Before she could ask, he added, “We don’t talk about my birth name.” Pointedly, he eyed Thor who had opened his mouth. Noticing the stare, he closed it again and innocently looked away from his brother.

“It’s actually very fitting once you get to know him.” Jane stated, making Loki glare at her, but she just smiled. Completely unphased.

Y/N turned, half facing the table everyone was sat at, “Well these are my friends. Peter, Bucky, and Steve.” She pointed to each of them and didn’t bother repeating the other’s names. Obviously, they had been listening.

“I wish I was named after a god. That seems pretty badass.” Peter piped up, smiling. He had a piece of pizza in his hands and took a bite after he finished. Stringy cheese stretched from his mouth as he sat the pizza down. He plucked it up and ate it too, mouth full.

Thor grinned, “I’ve had good luck with it.” He stepped over, pulling Jane with him. Then sat down in one of the empty chairs at their table next to Peter, “Can I?” He gestured to the leftover pizza on the table, Steve waved for him to go ahead and he grinned, grabbing a slice and munching on it. Jane kissed the top of his head before settling in beside him.

They had commandeered a long table off to the side of the Joe’s Pizzeria. Most of the smaller tables and booths were taken up, but they only filled up half of it. Peter and Y/N sat on one side, Steve and Bucky on the other. They had gotten two large pizzas, cheesy breadsticks, and mozzarella sticks. And she had thought Peter could eat a lot of food.

Jane picked up a breadstick, tearing off pieces and dipping them in leftover marinara sauce. Darcy moved over and plopped down next to Steve, who was across from Peter. Reluctantly, Loki sat down beside Darcy. Y/N followed suit, sitting back across Bucky again. Her feet brushed her gym bag under her seat and she kicked it further back out of the way. Suddenly, their group doubled in size. From the satisfied look on Darcy’s face, Y/N had a feeling this was pre-planned.

“So, do all of you know how to skate?” Steve asked, breaking up the small bought of silence that followed everyone getting settled. He twisted his straw in his fingers, done eating and working on his third refill.

Thor shrugged out of his blue jean jacket and nodded, “Me and my brother go ice skating at our father’s cabin every year. Roller-skating isn’t any different.” He finished nonchalantly, settling his jacket on the back of the chair. He dwarfed the too-small seat, just like Steve and Bucky. Relaxed, he plucked up another piece of pizza, folded it in half, and devoured most of it in one bite.

“I’ve been a couple times.” Jane supplied, looking over at Darcy across the table, “She wouldn’t shut up about this place after Y/N took her.” She continued teasingly, putting her elbows on the table and curling deeper into the arm Thor kept over her shoulders.

Darcy rolled her eyes, “Cause it’s awesome. Obviously.” She peaked up at Steve beside her, who was smiling as she talked, and grinned shyly back. Amused, Y/N tried to tamper down her smile. Too bad Steve was taken. Darcy was already smitten.

“Isn’t it?” Peter laughed, practically bouncing in his seat, “They’ve even got a laser tag arena upstairs!”

Thor’s eyes widened, and Y/N felt that something bad was about to happen. He grinned, “Really? Maybe we should have a friendly competition then.” He suggested, leaning back in his seat and stretching out his legs the best he could under the table. Jane slouched back with him, one of her hands coming up to hold his against her arm, threading their fingers together.

Jane groaned, smacking his chest with her free hand lightly. He didn’t even flinch, “Oh cause that’s a good idea. You don’t know what ‘friendly competition’ even means.” She poked at his cheek and he caught her hand, kissing it.

The mischievous smile that crept across Loki’s face made Y/N very suspicious, “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair.” He crossed his arms and ignored the curious look Darcy gave him.

“No, it wouldn’t.” Steve agreed and nudged his elbow into Bucky’s ribs. It made Bucky jerk, breaking out of his quiet stupor. Bucky had barely touched the pizza on his plate, just picked it apart, “Me and Buck have an unfair advantage. We’re both trained.”

Bucky, noticing everyone’s eyes on him, gave a half-hearted shrug, “Being a soldier will do that to you.” He tensed when Y/N’s eyes met his and stared at her for a long moment. He looked sad and she didn’t understand why. Then he turned away, leaning forward to look at Thor.

Thor perked up, “Really? Active of reserves?” He sat up straighter, not breaking his gaze away from Steve or Bucky. Loki even stared down the table at them, interested.

“Active,” Steve and Bucky replied in unison, Steve continued, “Afghanistan mostly.” A lot of what they said went over Y/N’s head. Just a fuzzy idea of a lot of sand and a raging sun bathed in red.

“Iraq but I spent a little time in Kuwait training soldiers.” Thor stated proudly. Steve’s eyes shone with intrigue and Bucky hummed in understanding.

Jane gave Darcy and Y/N a very pointed, ‘Here we go again’ look. They giggled quietly. Apparently, this wasn’t a new topic of conversation. Peter looked just as confused as the girls, but his eyes were round with curiosity.

“Were you guys Majors or Generals?” Peter asked, studying the three soldiers. Steve and Thor laughed, Bucky snorted, shaking his head.

“Oh no!” Thor barked a booming scoff, waving his free hand. The shake of his shoulders made Jane shake too but she just smiled fondly up at him. Thor had a contagious smile. Everyone at the table smiled along with him. Except Loki, but even his lips tipped up just a bit.

“Definitely wasn’t there that long.” Steve added, crossing his arms and glancing from Thor to Peter, “You’ve got to be in the military for a while to get that kind of ranking.”

“Stevie was almost a staff sergeant.” Bucky informed, a hint of pride painted his tone, smirking when Steve gave him a look. He just shrugged, relaxing for the first time in over an hour. Y/N was relieved. Seeing Bucky smile made the pinching in her ribs ease up.

“So were you.” Steve shot back and smirked when Bucky ducked his head.

“There’s no way they would have promoted me.” Before Steve could retort, Bucky looked over to Thor, “What about you?” Steve huffed, unimpressed at the obvious detour.

Thor grinned with pride, sitting up straighter, “I made captain before I came back home to help train soldiers in the reserves.”

Steve’s eyes widened in admiration and Bucky whistled. Seeing the four looks of confusion, Steve explained, “It’s a very high ranking. Captains have a lot of responsibility. Only the best can receive the title.”

Thor shrugged, “Being a sergeant is admirable as well. I only became a captain because I graduated from military school. My father insisted we attend West Point after high school.” He gestured between himself and Loki.

Loki scowled and rolled his eyes, “Yes. The Odinson family has a long history in the military.” There was distaste in his words, looming towards outright disgust. Definitely a story there that Y/N wanted to know but probably wouldn’t get the chance to ever ask.

Peter spoke up again, “Well, there’s four here who can shoot guns and four who can’t. I think we could split into equal teams. It could be fun to play capture the flag with people who actually know strategy.” He tentatively smiled, trying to not appear to eager.

Y/N looked between Darcy and Jane, they both shrugged, “I’ve only played a few times.” She explained, just a bit nervous, “I’ll probably get in the way.”

A small nudge against her foot had her glance up at Bucky. He smirked, shoe knocking against her own, “We’ll have your back.” Lightly, he bumped his shoulder against Steve’s who nodded sweetly in agreement.

Bucky went to say something else, but Peter chuckled, “I’ll take a laser for you.” The lame joke made her laugh and shove her hand against his cheek, pushing him away. Over Peter’s head, the neon light of the pizzeria’s sign flickered. The bright green E in Joe sparked and went out.

Y/N frowned and turned away from Peter’s self-satisfied laughter, “Nope. Too cheesy. Stop.” She shook her head and looked across the table. Bucky wasn’t smiling anymore. Abruptly, she felt cold and like he was much further away than just the other side of the table.

Thor light shook Jane against him by her shoulders, “Want to go to battle with me?” He asked, playfully winking at her.

Jane huffed, nose wrinkling, “Guess I can’t let you go in alone.” She pressed her lips together, trying to pretend to be annoyed by it all. Her shoulders hunched up to her ears when Thor gave her a loud kiss on the cheek.

Darcy groaned, slumping back in her chair, head hanging over the back, “New things are supposed to be good right? Fuck it. Let’s do this.” She clapped her hands together, shooting upright, “I’m in.” Languidly, she stretched her arms above her head and leaned back across her chair. Probably trying to wake up now that she had to be.

Eyebrows raised, Steve questioningly eyed Bucky, who shrugged. Then Steve sharply got up, pushing back his chair, “Let’s go then.” He picked up his jacket, shouldering it on so he didn’t have to carry it. Bucky groaned and stood up too, riffling through his leather pockets. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and checked inside to see how many he had. Steve wrinkled his nose in distaste but seemed to swallow back any comment that came to his tongue.

Y/N slowly pushed out of her chair. Quietly watched him for a moment. She lifted her dark green bag and stepped out of Peter’s way, closer to Bucky. That way her friend could fetch his MIT bag. Bucky looked up at her and his face twisted in an indignant grimace. He tucked the pack away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I thought you quit.” She prodded him in a very casual, curious tone. Nervously, she rocked from her toes to her heels. The last thing she wanted to do was come across accusatory or judgmental.

Bucky’s nose wrinkled, like he had heard that before and didn’t want to hear it again. He crossly stressed, “I have.” Steve hummed sarcastically, and Bucky glared up at him, “I’m serious.”

Everyone else got up. They all started to head in the direction of the elevator. Loki whined, following reluctantly, “I never said I wanted any part of this.”

Thor yanked Loki under his other arm and pulled him along, “We need even teams. You’re in.”

Y/N hung back and caught Bucky’s sleeve. He flinched and arched his brows at her. Impatient. She chewed on her bottom lip and let go like he had burned her, “I just wanted to ask if you’re ok.” Hugging her arms around herself, she worried the strap of her bag in her hands.

Bucky scoffed, “I’m fine.” He turned to go again but stopped when she called out.

“Did I do something to upset you?” She couldn’t help it. The words rolled off her tongue and her feet were glued to the ground. Like roots had grown from her soles and locked her in place.

Eyes round in surprise, Bucky’s expression softened, and he genuinely looked upset. He faced her again, still a few steps ahead of her, “No, not at all.” Frustration made him close his eyes and clenched his teeth, “Really, I’m ok. It’s stupid.” He emphasized and rubbed at his face, “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Of course, she wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust the charming smile he gave her. But she couldn’t quite do it. Following the others, they crossed through the arcade area. Everything was mostly lit up with the bluish-green harsh lights of the gaming screens. Artificial special effects, different PINGS and BOOPS, echoed to the ceiling along with cheering. She kept peeking up at him every chance she could. Walking one step behind him. The elevator dinged open and flooded the walkway with silvery yellow light.

White blurred away his silhouette and sent fuzzy halos across her eyes as her vision clouded. For just a second, it looked like he was eroding away. Disappearing in front of her. Nothing but a hazy fever dream.


	6. Bloody Bluebells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting tense and emotional lol better be prepared.   
> I’m hoping to update once a week now that I’ve got some other stuff planned.   
> I can’t promise an exact day yet because I’ve got some personal commitments coming up. But fingers crossed!  
> I hope you like it! As always, comments would be appreciated. You can also read this on Tumblr and see the chapter's banner [here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/178464926298/your-colors-ch6) .

The quarters of the ‘suiting-up’ room were spacious and dark. All the lights were low to exaggerate the neon glow of the laser tag vests. Flashing bulbs lined the perimeter of the ceiling and floor. Benches took up the gaps not occupied with the racks of equipment. There were three decent-sized laser tag arenas on the third floor of Skateaway. Every few months or so, they would alter the theme of at least one of the rooms.

Luckily, their group snagged one that was unoccupied. That way their match could be strictly one-on-one without any interference of rogue players or another team. It wasn’t that busy up here anyway. Time was edging towards 11pm and most people were downstairs with the bar and music. Everyone was suited up, and Y/N fiddled with her laser gun. It was apparently called a phaser.

One of the employees had just left after explaining how everything worked. There were three targets on the front of the vest, one large one on the back, and one on the phaser. She lounged beside Steve on a wide black bench, Bucky at her other side. The bench wasn’t all that wide, so her thigh pressed against Bucky’s, and she let her head rest against his shoulder. Thankfully, he didn’t seem too annoyed by it.

With a few flicks of his wrist, Peter finished putting in their information on the computer next to the entrance to the arena. Above the door, a count down started, glowing in green. They had 5 minutes before the game would begin.

“Ok so, does everyone understand how capture the flag works?” Peter asked, turning and facing the group nervously. He tugged at his vest, fiddling with his clasps, obviously uncomfortable with being the center of attention. Still, he was the one with the most laser tag experience.

Darcy leaned forward, aiming her laser at Peter’s suit, right over the target on his chest. Of course, nothing happened when she pulled the trigger. None of their suits were active yet, “So whichever team gets the most points at the end wins.” She made a ‘Pew Pew’ noise, pretending to shoot at him. Her nose wrinkled when she giggled at her own joke. Jane bumped their shoulders together, aiming her phaser at Darcy’s, pretending to shoot as well.

“Sort of.” Peter rocked on his feet, shifting his weight back and forth. Anxiety slowly turned into excited energy, “Whoever gets the other team’s flag back to their base ends the game and gets a 20-point bonus. Doesn’t mean they win. If the other team got more points from solid shots, they could still take the victory.”

“It’s 2 points for tagging your opponent, right?” Jane questioned, around the hair tie between her teeth. Phaser balanced on her knees, she swept her hair up off her neck. Seamlessly, she tugged her long hair back into a ponytail. 

Peter nodded, “And you lose a point if someone tags you.”

“Seems a bit unfair.” Loki grumbled, legs stretched out in front of him. He smirked deviously, “And what happens if we shoot someone on our team?” He side-eyed Thor beside him, who raised his eyebrows challengingly in return.

“You lose a point and you’re both deactivated for 10 seconds.” Peter chuckled, “It’s a bad idea.” He gestured to the two benches that their group was spread out on, “Ok our team’s blue,” He pointed to himself, and encompassed Steve, Bucky, and Y/N, “Your team’s red.” Which meant Thor, Loki, Jane, and Darcy, “When we get in there we’ll have one minute to get to our bases and come up with strategy. There is a time limit of 30 minutes. Even if we don’t manage to get a flag, the game’s over then.”

“Then we better fight courageously and quickly.” Thor grinned, brimming with enthusiasm. He held his phaser firmly in his lap, one knee bouncing rhythmically. Like he was unable to keep from doing something while they waited. Y/N thought it was funny that he got so passionate about what was mostly a children’s game. It didn’t seem to matter to him.

The sign over the door emitted a loud ‘BEEP’, announcing only one-minute left. Slightly panicky, Peter tapped is phaser against his shoulder in thought before his face lit up, “Oh! And you can’t return a flag to your base if your flag is captured. To get your flag back, you have to tag the person who’s carrying it.” He added, completely bouncing in anticipation now.

“Good luck.” Steve stated, standing up and glancing around at everyone, “Lets just try to have some fun alright?” He walked over beside Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder, playfully shaking him. The contact calmed Peter down just a bit, and he smiled gratefully up at him.

“It’s just a game.” Y/N shrugged, arm swinging her phaser near her leg as she got up along with everyone else. They gathered in a huddle near the door, watching the timer count down, “It’s supposed to be fun.”

 

 

Fun’s a relative term. Having extremely competitive men on both teams took the word ‘game’ and threw it out the window. This was not a silly, little game. No. This was one step away from being a battle. The fact that the four of them knew proper strategy just made it even more of a colossal undertaking.

The room was decorated to resemble a toxic wasteland. Everything painted in shades of neon and lit up under blacklights. There were four bases all together on opposite corners of the room, but they only had to worry about two. Pillars of crumbling walls split up most of the space in front of blue team’s base. Beyond that, there were chain linked fences and wrecked buildings to weave through. It was a maze. Barrels leaking toxic sludge scattered around to hide behind. Fake trees littered the area, their trunks textured, and gnarled branches twisted up towards the ceiling. Ominous music trembled through the air and fog rolled across their feet.

Y/N stood behind part of a wrecked wall, a window for her to peak out of. Their base was made up by half of a crumbled building. Their ‘flag’, a round glowing target that flashed blue, was up high on the back wall. Easily spotted through the gaping entrance that might once have had a door. A line that the other team wasn’t allowed to cross cut one foot away from the threshold of the house. It curved around their entire base in a halfmoon.

Thankfully, she was deemed the flag’s last line of defense. Which was fine, considering that she didn’t know what she would do if she ran into a too-eager Thor blanketed in shadows and fog. Probably have a heart attack. Definitely scream like a little girl.

Steve and Peter were their offense. Every so often she could hear Peter shriek in terror, or whoop in victory. She could only imagine what sort of trouble he was getting into.

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.” Y/N pointed out, glancing over to where Bucky was perched. He was their sniper, apparently something he was familiar with. Had managed to climb himself up onto an unassuming tree beside one of the collapsed walls of their base, to her left.

The trees were made of heavy plastic. Bucky sat near the trunk, knees up and feet propped against two different branches below him. The branches were flimsy at best, and bowed when under too much weight, but they got sturdier and thicker closer to the trunk. Bucky scoffed, “Well, if they didn’t want people to do it, they shouldn’t make it so easy.” There was some flawed logic there, but she didn’t bother to point it out.

From where she was standing, she could barely see him. If she didn’t already know he was there, she wouldn’t have noticed. None of the colorful lights reached him that far up. She could just make out the glow of his targets through the branches. The tree overlooked the bare courtyard that the maze opened to. He wasn’t high up enough that he could cheat and tag people like fish in a barrel as they crept through the labyrinth of walls and fences. Just high enough to have an easier time catching people off guard whenever they approached their base.

It was quiet now, and the silence made her anxiety tick, but she couldn’t hear anyone coming. There were three ways that people could charge at them. Each spaced out and with different types of cover they could take to avoid getting hit. Y/N’s eyes flickered over each one and listened for any signs of life. From decently far away, she heard Loki let out a resounding, “FUCK!” She giggled, thankful he wasn’t near their side.

“Do you think Steve and Peter have reached the flag yet?” Y/N asked, watching as the fog curled around her shoes and reflected the soft blue light of their flag. It was eerily pretty.

“Probably. Loki didn’t sound too happy.” There was a warmth in his voice that made her feel better. Maybe he was alright, and she had just been making something out of nothing.

A piercing battle cry made Y/N’s spine crack at the rate she whipped around to see the source of the shout from her small window. Phaser held high, Darcy charged out from the center lane, booking it towards their base and flag. From her position, there was no way she could get a clear shot. There wasn’t any time to waste, either. White as a sheet, Y/N forced herself to leap out of her hiding spot and stand guard in front of the flag.

Jerking up her phaser, she took aim on Darcy only for a piercing pop and crackle to screech from her suit. She nearly dropped her toy gun in surprise. A series of colors flashed from her targets and phaser before going entirely dark. As dictated by the rules, she stepped out of the base and glared at Darcy, who was doing a happy dance. Still two feet or so from their base. She kicked up her feet and swung her arms in the air in a quick spin. Fog swirled around her legs and reflected the glow coming from her. Darcy’s phaser was lit up like a rainbow, indicating that she hit her target.

“How could you shoot your best friend?” Y/N asked, playfully mortified. Hand gesturing up and down at herself, she made her eyes go wide and hurt. Subtly, she glanced over at Bucky’s tree, confused. He still hadn’t released a single shot. They were really flying down to the wire now.

Darcy cheekily winked at her, “All’s fair in love and war, right?” She placed a hand on her hip and waved her phaser at their glowing flag, “We’ll be taking that. Thanks.” Confused by the plurals, Y/N frowned only to tense up a moment later. From her peripherals, she spotted a bulky streak of gold. Thor stormed from the left. Despite his towering size, she couldn’t hear a single step. This could now be classified as an ambush.

Within five bounds Thor was right in line with their flag. Out of luck, Y/N started to panic and tried to remember how many seconds had passed since she was tagged. Maybe she could tag them back before they got out of sight. Right as Thor took aim, two flashes of a laser beam shot through the fog. Suddenly, the enemy pair lit up like Christmas morning with echoing POPS and CRACKS. Darcy squeaked in surprise and Thor whipped around to try and spot the original location of the blasts. From the pure confusion on his face, she didn’t think he could figure it out.

“Sniper?” Thor asked in awe, backing up with his useless, dark phaser raised. He turned in slow circles, eyeing up high at the walls and trees. Arms crossed, Darcy watched Thor, obviously waiting for him to decided what they should do next. Lips drawn down in a full pout, she stuck her tongue out at Y/N when she spotted the delighted grin lighting up her eyes.

Suit humming to life, Y/N hopped back into the base with a smug smirk, “Only the best sniper in history. Good luck finding him.” She snickered. Phaser lifted to her shoulder, she grinned wider at the sudden dread smeared across their faces. Darcy tried to bolt first, suit coming back to life a few steps away, but she didn’t make it far. Letting out a breath, Y/N aimed and managed to snap her right between the shoulder blades. Her friends suit flashed right as she made it to the gap in the wall, and she cursed before disappearing all together.

Thor was a bit harder to aim at. He bobbed and weaved as he made his way after Darcy. One of Bucky’s shots missed by a hair, lit up by the fog. Y/N missed twice as well but right as he was about to be clear, his suit flared in defeat. Glancing up, she could see Bucky’s phaser sparking too, and she whooped in victory.

Once Thor and Darcy had clearly retreated, she turned towards Bucky and shouted, “That was so cool!” She pumped her fists in the air and spun, “I actually got her!” Laughter escaped her and waved her phaser in the direction that Darcy had disappeared.

“You did great.” Bucky agreed, legs swinging from the branch as he stretched, “Don’t celebrate yet, though. They’ll be back.” From where she stood, she could just make out the reflected light of his phaser in his eyes. It lit up the soft smile and glinted against his teeth. Butterflies invaded her insides and she thought one might try to flutter out of her mouth.

“Ya but did you see the look on Thor’s face? He was so surprised!” She cackled, backing up into position again. She leaned next to the window, looking up at Bucky’s silhouette as he repositioned himself, “We make a pretty good team.” The declaration came without much consent. Like a butterfly escaping from her heart.

Bucky hummed in agreement, “Ya, I guess we do.” There was a hint of disbelief in his tone, as if the concept was just forming into a truth for him. The more time they spent together, the more Y/N noticed that she surprised him frequently. Part of her hoped that maybe she could keep surprising him. Maybe it would make him stick around.

 

 

Not even five minutes later, she heard someone charging towards them over the eerie background music. Phaser at the ready, Y/N eyed the three entrances, conversation with Bucky cut off. She had just been explaining how she was practicing types of flowers for their watercolor project. They would be starting the final Monday and she wanted to finish painting her bluebells before then. Definitely a conversation that could wait till later.

Peter burst through the right aisle, fog rapidly twirling around his feet and up to his shoulders. Mist emboldened the flashing colors of his phaser and painted his features in stark shadows, “I got it! Loki’s so mad!” Peter snickered, hefting his phaser above his head like a trophy.

Instantly, Y/N ran out of her spot to meet him in front of their base. Arms around his neck, she hugged him tight. The plastic of their vests clacked together, uncomfortable and lumpy. She laughed anyway, “You’re so awesome! Where’s Steve?” Her hands squeezed his shoulders and she bounced on the balls of her feet, peeking behind him for any sign of their other teammate.

“Holding them off.” Peter beamed, “Should probably hurry up and put them out of their misery.” Bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, he shrugged, practically vibrating from excitement. Taking a small to the side, she gestured for him to go ahead. Even bowed at the waist, as if to welcome him to their base.

“Definitely, guess that makes you my hero this time around.” Y/N teased, poking his shoulder with her phaser when he strolled past her. Honestly, she was glad the game would be over soon. Tonight had been a lot more exhausting than she expected and she just wanted to go home and wash the stink of artificial smoke off her.

Running a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles, Peter paused in front of their base. Head tilted back, he looked at her, cheeky smirk in place, “Does that mean I get a kiss?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she snorted, digging the end of her phaser into his back. Reluctantly, he took stumbled forward, still grinning at her over his shoulder.

Rolling her eyes, she waved him off with a giggle, “Sure! Ahuh, whatever you want. Dork.” Sarcasm evenly laced through ever word, she added, “I’ll owe you one for whisking us to victory. Now hurry up.”

Several things happened at once. First, Steve stumbled in towards them, walking backwards with his phaser aimed the way he just came, “Please tell me you got the flag back to our base.” He groaned, not even looking their way.

“I was just about—” Peter started, only to get cut off by Thor swinging in from the left this time. Steve’s suit lit up when Thor tagged him. He turned on Peter next, but Y/N stepped in front of him. She held up her phaser, and aimed a couple shots at Thor, missing every single one. There wasn’t even a chance she could get him.

“Peter! Hurry up!” She demanded, Thor was getting rapidly closer. Despite her slowing him down. Suit lighting up, she growled in frustration and dropped her phaser back down to her side. Thor had gotten her fair and square but if Peter would just hurry up!

A piercing pop shot off behind her as Peter’s suit flashed from being tagged. Her heart plummeted at the sound. Whirling around, her mouth fell open when Peter looked up at her, wincing in guilt. He’d lost the flag. Her eyes darted over to Thor, but he frowned, phaser glowing a solid red. He wasn’t even going for their flag anymore. Everyone froze, confused. Eyes scanning the field, she didn’t see anyone else who could have tagged him except… Bucky jumped down from the tree, suit lit up as well. Had he just…?

Their base let out a resounding crackle, and she spotted Loki from the right, phaser lit up. Hadn’t even noticed he was there. He was lurking away from the rest of them, crouched behind some barrels near the entrance. Their entire team was still dark. Would be for another few seconds. Thor grinned and jogged over to Loki, clapping his back before they disappeared. In a hurry to get away before her team could do anything about it.

Slowly, she took a couple steps towards Bucky. He was scowling down at the ground, phaser on his shoulder, and wouldn’t even look up at her. Arms out in question, she frowned and started, “Bucky how did you—”

“You did that on purpose!” Peter accused, spinning around to glare Bucky. His cheeks were red in frustration and he clenched his fists. Vibrating with bit back fire.

Expression stony, Bucky moved over to stand beside her, but kept a decent distance from Peter. She turned so she could watch whatever was happening play out. Suit still dark, he dryly replied, “It was an accident. I was aiming at Thor.” He held Peter’s glare without even flinching. Eerily calm in a way that suggested there was a lot going on beneath the surface.

Peter scoffed, “Ahuh cause you somehow managed to miss him and hit me from up there!” He jabbed a finger at Bucky’s former perch, “Just admit it. You didn’t want me to be the one winning our team the game.” Peter took another step towards Bucky, getting into his personal space, “You’ve had a problem with me from the first minute. Why?” Y/N slipped back, the tension between them palpable now. Her fingers worried the dips of her phaser, biting her bottom lip.

Steve edged closer, holding up his hands, “Why don’t we take a breath? We can still win this. Just have to tag Loki before he drops off the flag. We’re not getting anywhere accusing each other.” His palms were up in a placating gesture, and she met his eyes through the small gap left between the other two. Bucky and Peter were practically nose to nose now. Steve and Y/N on either side, forming an uneven square.

Bucky nodded and didn’t even address Peter. Instead, he shoved past him and stalked towards the way Loki went, “I’ll go get the flag. Steve, will you cover me?” Their suits were back online, and she watched the glowing blue of his back get smaller as he walked away. Her heart clenched, suddenly nauseous and worried again.

“No, I’m getting it. You already messed this up.” Peter snapped, jogging after him. Then he grabbed his shoulder and tugging him back. The look Bucky gave him made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Peter didn’t even flinch, too angry to care.

“Peter!” Y/N warned, setting her phaser on the ground. This wasn’t good. If he kept pushing like that, something bad was going to happen. Hesitantly, she walked closer, hoping to get his attention. Peter wouldn’t look at her.

“And you’re going to stop me?” Bucky growled, staring coldly down at him. He clenched his jaw and shrugged his shoulder out of Peter’s touch. His hands had a white knuckled grip on his phaser. If he squeezed any harder, he might end up splintering the plastic.

Heart thrumming in her ears, Y/N hurried up behind Peter and reached for his arm, “Cut it out already. Arguing’s getting us—"

“What’s your problem? What did I do to you?” Peter shouted at Bucky’s back, ignoring her. He seized Bucky’s arm again, keeping him from storming off. The glow from their vests winked across Bucky’s teeth as he sneered.

“Stop it!” Gripping Peter’s shoulder, she tried to tug him back, her own plea ringing in her ears. He wouldn’t budge. Worse, he didn’t let go of Bucky. Adrenaline made her heart flutter unevenly, and she heard Steve call Bucky’s name in warning from behind her. It didn’t matter.

“You’re getting on my nerves. Back off.” Bucky demanded, shoving Peter’s hand away. It was like watching a guitar string twist tighter and tighter. Too much tension hummed in the air.

“No! I want to know why you’re being such an asshole!” Peter clutched Bucky’s phaser when he tried to turn away again. He yanked at the end, nearly taking it from Bucky all together.

“Guys!” Y/N yelled, but they didn’t even look at her. Then the wire snapped.

“Let go!” Bucky snarled. Violently, he whipped around and jabbed the phaser into Peter’s stomach. Hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Hard enough to send him reeling back and crack his elbow into Y/N’s nose.

Sharp pain erupted through her skull and sent white specks across her vision. She fell back onto her butt. The motion slammed all her joints together and rattled her teeth. Hand snapping to her nose, tears stung her eyes and she yelped. Blood cascaded down her chin from her nose, making her sputter as she tried to take a breath.

Somewhere a phaser clattered to the floor. A warm hand shakily touched her shoulder the next second. Cool air brushed her arm as Bucky crouched beside her, his gloved hand brushed back her hair, worry etched in his every move, “Y/N—”

“Don’t touch me!” She snapped, blindly slapping his hand away. Shakily, she crawled up to her feet. Head swimming. She stumbled away from his hands when he tried to help her up. It took her a few extra seconds, but she managed to stand with minimum swaying. Her vision cleared but her nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. Everything hurt. Even thinking hurt. Words were even worse. All she could see was red, and that wasn’t just the blood covering her palms.

The way her hands were tinted blue, it almost made her blood violet. In her minds eyes she imagined adding blood to the petals of her bluebells. It would have such a striking contrast. Why did she always think of art when she got stressed? Head fuzzy, she glared up at the two men standing in front of her.

Bucky flinched, guilt making him look sickly pale in the dim lighting. His hands were out, as if to catch her if she collapsed. A buzzer went off overhead, signifying that the game was over. Oddly perfect timing.

Peter didn’t look much better, and he whispered her name, stepping closer as well. He had a hand on his stomach, right where Bucky had struck him. When he reached for her she shook her head, “Don’t!” Her voice echoed unpleasantly in her aching skull, muffled but sharp. Both Bucky and Peter flinched. She held up her free hand, to keep them both back. It worked. Scarlet beads trickled from her outstretched palm to the floor. She blinked away tears, “Just leave me alone.” Y/N finished, tears thick in her throat.

Then she brought both hands back to her face and turned away. Hastily, Y/N walked away from them. Towards the nearest exit. Didn’t even look back. Currently, she didn’t want to see either of them. They were both idiots.

Hesitantly, Steve caught up to her side, “I can help get you cleaned up.” He offered, keeping up with her as she weaved through the maze of walls and barrels, “I know a thing or two about nose bleeds.” He had a sweet, timid smile on his face.

Y/N let out a sharp breath through her mouth, pinching the end of her nose as she tried to keep blood from running down her throat, “Ya I could use some help.” She admitted. Blood dripped through her fingers to the floor and she grimaced.

Steve quickly unclipped his vest, dropping all the equipment to the floor. She paused when he fell behind her and watched as he tugged his long sleeve shirt over his head. He didn’t even stop to pick anything back up, “Here.” He offered his shirt out to her, hair ruffled and undershirt tight against his body with sweat.

“I’ll ruin it.” She hedged, pointedly not reaching for it right away. Her own shirt was already ruined. And she was reluctant to make a mess of anything else.

Shrugging, he kept holding it out to her, “Not that big of a lose.” Slowly, she took it and pressed it to her face, fingers sticky against the material. Steve smiled and tapped his own nose, “Keep pressure on it. Should stop bleeding soon if you do.” Steve advised, and she winced but listened.

 

Once they finally made it out into the hallway, where the lighting was clear, Steve reached up and lightly touched her hand, “Here, let me see.” He pulled his shirt bundle away from her, making her flinch. The bleeding had slowed but hadn’t entirely stopped yet. Gently, he felt the bridge of her nose and sighed in relief, “Not broken but you’ll have some bruising. Does it hurt too bad?”

She sniffed and grimaced when the taste of blood coated her tongue, “Only when my face moves.” She joked, pushing the ruined shirt back in place. The bright lighting of the hall made her eyes sting and she rubbed lightly at them, smearing away the remnants of dried tears.

Steve chuckled, “Let’s get you some ice.”

After exchanging her equipment for her stuff, they headed for the elevator. Steve insisted on carrying her bag for her. They went back to the pizzeria and asked one of the waitresses for an icepack and water before settling down. The place was deserted now, closing for the night. Only half the lights were even on. Elbows up on the table, Y/N cringed and pulled his shirt from her nose, “I think it’s stopped bleeding.” She sighed in relief, nose still stuffy.

Steve took the shirt from her and dipped an end in a glass of water, “Here, let me clean it up. You look like you’re straight from a horror movie.” He teased, scooting to the end of his chair across from her.

Knees between her own, he took her chin into his hand and tilted her face up. It felt weirdly intimate, but his determined expression kept her from protesting. Grip was warm and tender, he leaned over her. Obviously, he didn’t want to hurt her anymore than he had to.

The cold dabbing of Steve’s damp shirt made her hiss in pain, but his hold on her chin kept her from ducking away. They hadn’t seen anyone else from their group since leaving. Y/N was grateful. Eyes down at her lap, she twisted the edge of her shirt with her stained fingers. Slowly cleaning the blood from under her nails. Every so often Steve’s breath would brush her cheeks and he would angle her chin left or right.

After a minute or so of silence passed, she quietly asked, “Why’s Bucky been such a jerk tonight?” She peeked up at him, catching his frown and winced. Luckily, she had the excuse of her nose hurting for the telling expression. Hadn’t even known the guy for a day and she was already ragging on his friend. To be fair, though, all this gore was mostly Bucky’s fault.

Steve sighed, eyebrows raised, “Honestly? I don’t really know. Buck’s always had a bit of a temper, but he doesn’t usually let it get him into trouble.” He got a clean end of his shirt wet and wiped at her chin, “I haven’t seen him act this stupid in a while.” His blue eyes were sad when they met her own.

Pursing her lips, she admitted, “I don’t know what Peter could have done to make him so mad. He told me I didn’t do anything.” She shrugged, at a loss. Steve’s eyebrows came together, and he stared at her for a second before his expression cleared. The cloth was rough as it brushed under her jaw. Something clattered behind the counter in the pizzeria’s kitchen, making her tense.

A low thoughtful hum left him, “If you tell Bucky this, he’ll kill me and deny it. But I think he might be jealous.” He gave her a conspiratorial smirk. Bundling up the shirt, he set it back on the table, satisfied.

“Jealous?” Y/N asked, tone rising at the end in disbelief. Taking the bag of ice from him, she held it lightly against the bridge of her nose. Arms crossed she sat back in her chair, staring at him incredulously.

Steve nodded, shrugging his jacket on over his undershirt, “I haven’t seen him act this dumb since we went to the fair with Dot and her boyfriend.” He glanced up at the ceiling in thought, “That was back when we were still in high school. He got so jealous that he couldn’t stand himself and blew all his money trying to impress her by winning her something.” A smile lit up his face at the memory.

Y/N hid her scowl behind the bag of ice and stared down at the white tile floor. Why did Dot have to keep popping up so often? She shook her head, “What would he have to be jealous for? Peter’s just my friend. Just like him.” The bag of ice dripped cool water down her chin when she shifted it to a more comfortable spot.

“I’ve known Bucky for a long time. He might not even admit it to himself, but he cares about you. A lot.” Steve stated, meeting her eyes with a fond smile, “If you don’t feel the same way, it’s ok. Just go easy on him. He’s been through a lot.” One of Steve’s knees bumped against her own when he stretched out his long legs.

Y/N felt her stomach flutter, hope making her heart hurt. She didn’t want to feel hope for Bucky liking her. Especially not right now. When she’s supposed to be angry with him. She sputtered out a protest, “He doesn’t even want to date. Told me he wasn’t ready for it.” She ignored the pounding of her heart and the obvious question in his statement. Still didn’t want to make her feelings more real by confiding them in really anyone.

“Maybe not but he won’t feel that way forever. Bucky loves a lot easier than he would want anyone to know. And a lot deeper than most. Considering how much of a jealous idiot he acted today, he’s feeling things whether he wants to or not.” Steve explained, propping his chin up on his hand. He said it with such confidence that she wanted to believe him. It didn’t really matter, though. Wouldn’t matter until Bucky wanted to act on how he felt.

“Doesn’t make this ok.” She gestured to her face with her free hand.

“No, it doesn’t. I just—” Steve huffed and rubbed at his face, “I want him to be happy. And you make him happy.” She blushed, falling quiet as he figured out what he wanted to say, “And I can’t help but want whatever’s going on to work out. For both of you.”

“Thank you.” That was all she could manage to come out. There was a heartbeat of comfortable silence where they watched each other. An understanding forming. Y/N could easily see herself becoming Steve’s friend. Honestly wanted to.

Before he could reply she heard Darcy call her name from all the way over at the elevator. She turned and watched her friend run over to her. Not even two seconds later, Darcy dropped down in front of her and cried, “Are you ok? Oh my god! Your face!”

Y/N winced when Darcy jarred her into a hug, “I’m ok! Ow!” She grimaced and batted Darcy’s hands away from her, “It looks worse than it is. Not even broken.” The swelling must have been ugly. Darcy was staring at her with misty, concerned doe eyes.

Behind her, Peter and Bucky hung back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Darcy waved her hand towards them dismissively, “I told Jane to go ahead and head out. She’s staying at Thor’s tonight anyway. I wanted to make sure you got home ok.”

Just having the two of them there made her heart hurt. Anger bit at her tongue. If Peter had just listened to her or talked to her before he blew up, it wouldn’t have been so bad. If Bucky would just talk to her instead of bottling everything up, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But it was more than that. She was angry at even the idea that Bucky was such a jealous idiot he would take it out on her and her friend. Angry that Peter had to go off like he did. Pissed off that her nose was still throbbing.

Ignoring them, Y/N rolled her eyes, but offered a small smile. She was grateful for Darc’s occasional over-protective tendencies. Skin starting to hurt from the cold, she set the icepack aside, “It’s just a bloody nose. I’m ok.” Eyes peeking up, she studied the two quiet shadows lingering back. She didn’t know if she wanted them to apologize again or not.

Didn’t know if she had it in her to have that conversation right now. She was just so tired.

Peter seemed like he wanted to say something. He kept glancing over at her but then quickly looking away. Biting his tongue. Bucky wasn’t even looking at her, arms crossed and head down. Steve stood up with a groaned, stretching, “I think we’re going to head out.” His sudden statement startled Bucky, making his tense, but still, he didn’t speak up.

Y/N stiffly agreed, too awkward for her own good, “Me too. I’m exhausted.” She got up and hesitated for only a second before she scooped up her bag. Her eyes trailed over Bucky and Peter again before she waved at Steve, “I’ll see you around?” She asked.

Surprising her, Steve tugged her into a warm hug, and rubbed her back, “Hopefully soon.” He pulled back and squeezed her arms, giving her an imploring look, “Think about it.”

“I will.” Y/N promised, making him smile. When he released her, she turned away and focused back on Darcy. Shouldering her bag, she noticed that it felt heavier now, “Want to stay the night?” She asked, ignoring the two weighted pair of eyes on the back of her head.

Darcy hugged her arm, “Love to!” Y/N led them towards the stairs. Forgoing an awkward elevator ride. She didn’t say goodbye to Peter or Bucky. But neither of them tried to stop her.

“Are you ok?” Darcy asked as they made their way down the stairs. Finally, alone. The stairwell was cold, and she paused to zip up her coat, getting a better hold on her bag.

“Ya, it’s barely hurting now.” Y/N replied but she knew that wasn’t exactly what her friend was asking her about. Every step she took made her muscles drag just a bit more. Just a hint sadder. Truthfully, she didn’t know how she felt. Just that ‘ok’ wasn’t it.


	7. Art Block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Finally! I'm literally sitting in the middle of the floor of my mostly empty house finishing this up.  
> There's a moving truck outside and all of the furniture is gone.  
> BUT the chapter is done. Hopefully to an acceptable degree. My editing game is weak right now.  
> Anyway, I hope you like it!  
> Feedback is appreciated and you can check out the banner for this chapter [here](https://tasharii.tumblr.com/post/178765713938/your-colors-ch7%22).

Dust shone gold in the warm sunlight streaming through the window behind her. It peeked in through the plants hanging in the window frame. Nose wrinkled, she wiped a rag across the shelf before filling the empty space with the stack of books she had organized on the cart. It was a slow process to dust and put books away, but Darcy was manning the desk, so Y/N had the time.

Wasn’t like she could focus on drawing long enough to do any good anyway. Art block when she needed it the most was the worst. Her head wouldn’t stop spinning. Round and around like a carousel, it kept playing back the night before. Part of her worried she overreacted but the other part didn’t want to take that sort of stupid male ego laying down. Peter had messaged her earlier in her shift, around 10 that morning, apologizing again. Of course, she had already forgiven him. What happened wasn’t really his fault.

Bucky hadn’t reached out to her at all. That wasn’t all too surprising, though.

From the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching her from down the aisle of books. Rag in hand, she turned with the best ‘customer service’ smile she could muster, “Can I help you find anything?” She paused, smile dimming as anxiety twisted a knife in her stomach. Peter gave her a sheepish smile and then hissed in empathetic pain when his eyes fell on her nose. It was still swollen, and blotted bruises had formed in the corners of her eyes.

“It looks worse than it feels.” Y/N promised, for the millionth time. All day different people had asked her what happened, or if she was ok. Especially Darcy.

“Well it looks pretty bad.” Peter emphasized, hands stuck in his hoodie pockets, and head ducked nervously. Like he was trying to make himself small, “I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” He stated apologetically. Then gestured back towards the desk, “I brought you some lunch. From Subway. Your favorite.”

Y/N had already packed her own lunch, but the sentiment still made her soften. When he had text her earlier, she had told him all was forgiven, but her message had still been short. Peter hung back, awkwardly shuffling his feet. The college library was, luckily, massive. With two floors worth of books and study space. Their conversation couldn’t be heard by anyone else, and she was grateful that they could talk without disturbing any of the students. Taking pity on him, she sat her cleaning supplies back on her book cart and took a step closer, opening her arms for a hug.

Relief glinted in his eyes and made his shoulders relax. Within a second, he scooped her up and hugged her tight, wary of her face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so mad over something dumb.”

“It’s ok. It’s not really your fault anyway.” Y/N promised, pulling back and offering a small smile, “He’s the one who acted like a jerk.” Her shoes clicked against the wood of the floor when he released her back down. His hands lingered on her waist, warm against her button up blouse, before he let her go completely with a hint of reluctance.

Peter shrugged and blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair, “Ya but I didn’t help. I should have stopped when you told me to.” He pressed his lips together, guilt still crawling over his features, “He’s your friend too. I know he means a lot to you and I did spur him on.”

Y/N took a step back and picked her duster back up, wiping down some more of the shelves within her reach. Just to keep her hands busy. The sunlight was warm on her back, heating up her neck where she had her hair twisted up out of the way, “I don’t know what got into him. He’s never acted like that to me before. Even Steve said that wasn’t normal.”

“Maybe he was jealous.” Peter offered, and she paused, holding a few books under her arm, dusty cloth up above her head on another shelf. She hugged the books in her grasp tighter to her chest and bit her bottom lip, looking away.

Now Steve, Darcy, and Peter were all saying the same thing. With different theories, but still, “Maybe.” She conceded, putting the books back, “He doesn’t have anything to be jealous of, though. You’re my friend.” The books nearly tipped over and she caught them, straightening them back up.

Peter crossed his arms over himself and leaned back against the shelf next to her, “Ya, just friends.” There was a resigned sort of bleakness in his tone that she was entirely too aware of. Her and Peter had a long, complicated history as friends. It showed in moments like this where words were left unsaid between them. Filling up the fractured space that kept them at a certain distance, even as best friends. Even though she wanted things to be different, there wasn’t anything she could do.

Meticulously organizing the books on her cart, putting them in order, she spoke up as the silence stretched out, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I like him, a lot, but he’s just so confusing.” Admitting her crush, even vaguely, out loud made her heart shiver in anticipation. Like it was getting ready to jump onto her sleeve and make all her feelings known to everyone. Especially Bucky. A hint of guilt made her stomach sour. Peter liked her. A lot. She’d known that for almost the entire time they had known each other. Before she met Bucky, she had thought she might feel the same way about Peter. Had almost asked him out on a date.

Being with Peter, would have been easy in the best sort of way. They had a special sort of friendship that would have carried over into a relationship effortlessly. Fate just had different plans. Things didn’t work out the way she thought they might. Now their friendship was strained, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Peter never confessed his feelings to her. He kept them close to his chest. But it was obvious.

Bleakly, Peter stared up at the ceiling, and she could see the moment he swallowed back whatever was building up inside of him. His eyes were dark and glistening, lips tight and arms holding himself. It hurt her to see it. Then he nodded faintly to himself and looked over at her with a sweet smile, “Just give the guy some time to figure out what he wants. It’s not easy to have a crush on a girl as awesome as you.” There was a double meaning there that she chose to ignore. It wouldn’t help anyone for them to have that conversation now. Nothing would change. That unspoken conversation would just hurt them both and make an opportunity for them to say things they might regret later.

“I’m just going to wait it out. He’s not even talking to me right now.” Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed her cart further down into the 800’s, where her next drop off was. Rag in hand, she knelt down and started adjusting the bottom shelf, picking books that didn’t belong there, and rearranging them back into order, “And I haven’t quite forgiven him for last night. Whether I like him or not, he was a jerk to my best friend.” She flashed Peter a smile, and his smile was a bit more genuine in return. It made his dimples show.

“Plus, he did give you a black eye.” Peter pointed out, then paused and snorted, “Well, two actually.”

“And ruined one of my favorite shirts.” She tacked on, the floor was cold beneath her jeans, seeping a chill into her skin.

A couple beats of silence passed, broken up with the shuffling of books and the quiet whispers of other patrons in the library. Peter’s voice was hesitant at best, concerned at worst, “Aunt May said she ran into Mrs. Donovan at the store the other day.” Even hearing that last name sent unsettling dread down Y/N’s spine. She paused and looked up at him, quiet. He continued quickly, “I was just wondering if you’d heard from him lately.”

Y/N shook her head and gave a nervous sort of chuckle that shouldn’t be called a laugh, “Mn no, I haven’t talked to him in about a year.” She shifted and stood up with a few heavy books in her arms, “Why?” The question came out with another coating of trepidation in it. Anything that involved her ex wasn’t good. Could never be good. Especially with the expression on Peter’s face.

“His mom said he’s planning on going back to school. Finish getting his degree.” Peter supplied, hands in the back pockets of his jeans. He rocked nervously from foot to foot.

“Oh cause he had a degree he was going for before.” She scoffed bitterly, “He was undecided.” She shoved some books back into place with more force than necessary, “He better not be planning to come back here.”

Peter shrugged, “I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” He dug through his coat pockets and tugged out his phone, checking it and putting it away again. All within the few seconds it took her to absorb all the implications of what he was saying.

“He hasn’t reached out to me.” She soothed, easing some of the worry making him frown, “And if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t.” It had taken her over a year to get through the worst of what he did to her. She was still dealing with the aftermath. Peter was one of the very few people who knew the full extent of how bad it was.

“If he does, just let me know. I’m here for you. You’re not alone now.” Peter stated fervently, reaching forward and squeezing her shoulder, “I won’t let him hurt you again.” His brown eyes were like melted chocolate, sweet and sincere. Not an empty promise in sight.

Y/N smiled, weak but real, “I won’t let him hurt me either.” As much as it did make her feel better to know someone was there to help protect her, it hadn’t been others who got her out of that relationship. The only person that got her out of it was herself. It took her own will power to not get sucked back in. To seek out therapy and start fixing all the damage he had done to her head. All the manipulation that warped everything the wrong way.

“Good,” Peter paused and tilted his head back the way he came, “I should get going. I’ve got some errands to run.”

“Thanks for bringing me lunch. I’ll see you around?” Y/N asked, accompanying him back through the isles towards the entrance.

Peter stopped and tugged her into another tight hug, “Definitely, let me know how the whole Bucky situation works out.” He grinned before heading out. Right before he disappeared, he swiveled back towards her and wordlessly waved.

Y/N wished she knew how the whole ‘Bucky situation’ was going to work out herself.

 

 

Bucky didn’t message her all day and Y/N finally caved right before bed, sending him a quick ‘goodnight’.

**—————**

The next day, she kept glancing up at her phone, waiting for him to reach out to her at all. Pacing around her apartment the better part of the morning. She had only managed to drink some hot tea and eat half a bowl of cereal. Finally, Y/N forced herself to sit down on the floor surrounded with her art supplies. It was getting closer to the time that he should show up for their Sunday working session.

Energetic music filled her too-empty apartment from her speakers, controlled by her phone next to her thigh. It made her feel better and kept her focus on the work in front of her. As best as it could anyway. Art block be damned she had things to do. She hummed along with it under her breath, speaking the words more than attempting to sing them. Singing wasn’t her strongest talent.

Wet paintbrush slowly filling in the colors of her bluebells, she jerked when her phone chimed beside her sketchbook. Quickly snatching it up, her heart dropped when his name popped up on her screen.

He wasn’t coming.  
Barely anything got done after that. Apparently, Bucky Barnes was the worlds greatest art block.

**—————**

It all came to a head Monday when he didn’t show up for class.

All Bucky offered her was some dumb excuse about staying later at work. He may not have said it explicitly. Didn’t have to. Y/N understood he was avoiding her, and it hurt. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

After cutting out of class an hour early, it was pointless for her to be there anyway, she did something she never did. Called off work. Then dumped all her stuff in her apartment and made her way to Rosalie’s. If he was going to avoid her, she would at least make it difficult for him.

 

 

Rosalie’s was small and had a constant stream of customers. It took Y/N a few minutes to talk herself into going inside. During that time, she watched a steady line of people head in and come out of the bakery. All came out happier than when they went in. The bakery was in the middle of a strip of stores, all family owned businesses down in the heart of Brooklyn.

When Bucky told her where he worked, she had been confused. It was hard to imagine him working for a pretty, little bakery, but now she was here in person. And she could understand why. The inside was decorated in deep wooden browns, cream counters, and greens with red accents. As she expected, there were roses everywhere. Paintings, vases, and even carved into the wood of the main counter. There was a display case next to the register filled with freshly baked recipes and a menu up above their heads with all the drink and food orders.

Y/N spotted Bucky the moment she stepped through the threshold, shaking off the chilly wind from outside. Tray of dishes against his hip, he was clearing off tables. She bit her tongue and resisted the urge to immediately go up to him. He was at work. She wouldn’t do that to him. Instead, she headed up to the counter and ordered a creamy sweet coffee, along with a mammoth sized muffin. After paying for her food, she headed over to a small table in the back restaurant. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t pay him any attention for now.

Jacket off and situated, she unpacked all her supplies, uncapping a mason jar of water. Pulling out her sketchbook, she started doodling, occasionally adding color with the travel sized watercolors she had. Some fanart for one of her favorite shows, and random bits of scenery. Something to pass the time until his shift was over. She didn’t have a clue when he was supposed to be done, but she could wait.

A young girl brought her order over to her. A tall scarlet ceramic mug filled to the brim and topped with whipped cream. The muffin had an edible candy rose on top. It tasted like hard icing. Pure rosy pink sugar. Y/N picked pieces of her muffin off and popped them in her mouth. It dissolved instantly on her tongue.

It took her 20 minutes to slowly finish the muffin, a full 30 to finish her drink. She ordered a refill and sat back down. The entire time she could feel Bucky watching her. To be fair, she kept tabs on him in return. After he got done cleaning the tables, he went back behind the counter and started helping make orders. Then he disappeared into the back and was gone for a while.

An hour passed slowly, but she was determined to wait him out.  
The entire time Y/N felt like she might implode. Anxious thoughts buzzed through her head.  
What if he got mad? What if he really didn’t want to see her? What if this went horribly wrong and she ended up embarrassing herself? Or he ended up not being in her life anymore?

Sometime around 5, she jolted to attention when the chair across from her scraped back. Looking up, she observed Bucky slouched down in his seat, and closed her sketchbook. Her paintbrushes and pencils were scattered across the tiny table. He didn’t say anything at first and neither did she. Just stared at each other. Something heavy lingered in the air, compressing her lungs.

Taking a breath, Y/N sat back, hands in her lap, and asked, “Are you ok?” Over the last three days where he ignored her, that was the main question that spun in her head. She stopped being mad at him and just started worrying about him. He was MIA for days and had to be genuinely upset about everything.

 It was like she popped a hole in the balloon of tension in his chest.

Bucky’s shoulders drooped as he relaxed, head falling back, he gazed at the ceiling before sitting back up. Hand against his mouth, he scrutinized her for a second before shaking his head, “Are you ok?” He stressed the question, and ran a hand through his hair, tussling it. There were inky circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept well in a while and unkempt scruff growing on his cheeks. More facial hair than she was used to seeing. He didn’t look bad, just run dry.

Answering a question with a question never sat right with her, but at least he wasn’t walking away or avoiding her anymore. She started to gather up her paint and brushes, slowly, keeping her hands steady despite her rushing anxiety. After a second, she shrugged and muttered, “As ok as I can be.” Peter delivering the news about her ex had brought back some memories she would rather not have. It also added a few extra pounds to the weight of anxiety and sadness that haunted her from time to time. But she wasn’t here to talk about that. Not even ready to share that story with him.

Bucky hummed, and fiddled with the collar of his shirt, not saying anything. As his silence stretched on, she offered, “Class wasn’t as fun without you there today. Do you know what you’re going to do for your final?” They started the final projects that morning, they were due in a week. It was easier to talk about art than anything else. A safe topic to thaw some of the ice with.

With a shake of his head, Bucky crossed his arms, stretching the soft red and black material of his long sleeve shirt. Every Rosalie’s employee wore a variation of the same shirt with black pants, “No clue but I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” His eyes drifted around the room, the bustling of the bakery filling the quiet. This was awkward.

“You never answered my question.” Y/N hedged, tentative and worried she might upset him more. She slipped her sealed pallet of paint away, and smeared the blue paint staining her fingers on a napkin. The color appeared green on the crimson paper.

Bucky glared down at the table, pushing a salt shaker around with his finger, “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt and I shouldn’t have hit Peter either.” That still wasn’t really an answer, but it didn’t take a genius to see he really wasn’t ok.

“He’s alright, just sore.” She offered and then tapped at the bridge of her nose where bruises bloomed out and under her eyes, “And this looks worse than it is.” That seemed to be her mantra as of late. Her face looked worse than it was. This situation wasn’t that bad. Her emotional state wasn’t as bad as it felt. Just rationalize it and it would be ok.

Bucky grimaced when she drew attention to her injury, “Doesn’t matter. I was being an ass.” He accidentally knocked over the salt shaker, spilling a few crystals on the table. The clatter of it hitting made him bristle and scowl down at it.

“Why were you so mad? Did Peter say something?” She asked, the idea of him being jealous flitted through her mind. It still felt dumb. Especially now that she was sitting across from him and the entire interaction was so stilted and uncomfortable.

Uneasy, Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck, dusting the salt off the table, “He was fine. I think I was just having a bad day. Not anyone’s fault but mine. I just got upset over some stupid stuff and took it out on him.” The vagueness of his reply had her head spinning. Attempting to fill in the blanks. He quickly added, “It won’t happen again. Promise.”

One day he wouldn’t feel the need to be anything but honest with her. Hopefully wouldn’t need to omit information about his feelings and life. Until then, she could wait for him. Y/N offered him little grin and nod, “Then I guess we’re ok.” She shrugged, and his lips turned up on one side.

“Really?” Bucky asked, eyeing her, looking for any hint that she was lying. He leaned forward in his seat, elbows on the table.

“Definitely,” She paused and revealing, honest words pressed at her tongue. She stared up at him, meeting his pale blues and feeling her heart skip. He was smiling fondly at her, a kindness in his eyes that fed the hope inside her. Just two seconds of courage, “I missed you. These past couple of days.” Y/N took a breath and quietly added, “I like spending time with you.”

A soft pink spread across his cheekbones and she felt her stomach flip. Enjoying the rush of confidence that it gave her. Sure, he could be blushing for any number of reasons, and it didn’t change that he had no interest in dating…. But at least he was blushing.

“I—” Bucky stumbled, clearing his throat and looking over to wear one of the waiters was wiping off a table, then back to her, “I missed you too.” He confided, and she felt herself blushing in return. They stared at each other and it felt like she was searching for something. Anything to confirm that he wanted her too. She couldn’t find it and the urge to kiss him made her bite her lip.

Bucky’s eyes flicked down and then he shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, “Let me walk you home.” His voice broke her out of her trance and even though it wasn’t rejection, it stung like it was. Him changing the subject wasn’t anywhere near rejection, but he broke whatever moment had charged up between them. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

“That’s so out of your way.” Y/N protested, “I’ll be alright.” She finished putting her pencils in their art bag and placed it back into her spacious purse, sketchbook added last.

“Just, let me buy you dinner then.” Bucky stressed, and the genuine expression of determination made her heart swell to the point of hurting. Why did liking someone have to hurt so much? Like an anchor compressing her ribs. Calling it a crush was startlingly accurate.

It dawned on her then that Bucky hadn’t said ‘sorry’ throughout their entire conversation. In fact, he had only ever told her he was ‘sorry’ a total of two times since they met. This must be his personal way of apologizing. Y/N pressed her lips together to keep from beaming, “I’d like that.”

Bucky stood up and took her bag from her before she could pick it up. It wasn’t really that heavy, but he shouldered it for her and guided her out the door. They slipped around small tables and he paused to wave bye to his coworkers who were eyeing her curiously.

“Did you like the coffee?” He asked, voice lighter than it had been just a few minutes earlier. It was a relieving shift. The black sleeves of his shirt accented his broad build and it was almost funny to watch him so deftly maneuver through the small indoor space. Bucky was the biggest guy in the place.

“Ya it was really good. Wish I lived closer. I’d kill for one of those muffins every morning.” Y/N laughed, stepping through the door as he held it open for her. The bell jingled sweetly above her head when the door jostled open.

“I actually baked those this morning.” Bucky puffed up with pride, “Mrs. Rosy uses my recipe for them now. It’s nothing special, just one of my mom’s.” Once they were outside, he wrapped his arm over her shoulders and tucked her close to him. Immediately protecting her from the biting wind.

“Who knew you were such a talented baker.” She teased, trying to control the pounding of her heart in her ears. If it kept beating that loud, she wouldn’t be able to hear what he was saying.

Bucky snorted, “Nah, just with some things.” He squeezed her in a half hug, “I am sorry. About all that. Peter’s a good guy and I’d never hurt you on purpose.” That was three times now and it felt like his words injected sunshine in her veins. Warm to the cusp of aching. Fuzzy to the point of floating away. Bucky made her feel that way and more. Their eyes met when she looked up at him, and he was smiling. Glowing in the fading light of the sun.

“Just don’t let it happen again and we’ll be good.” Y/N poked him in the stomach, making him catch her hand, voice embarrassingly fluttery. He squeezed her fingers before letting her hand go, the metal under his glove hard but the gesture was gentle.

“I promise.” He replied before looking ahead again. She stumbled, not watching where she was going. Too enraptured with taking in the moment and lost in her overwhelming emotions. Bucky caught her and tugged her back by the waist. Keeping her upright, he shook his head, the smile on his face showed his teeth, “You’re lucky you’ve got me to keep you straight.” He bragged, “You and Steve both. Geeze.”

“Don’t forget what we do for you.” She reminded, pointing a finger at him.

Maybe if she was lucky, Bucky would always be able to catch her when she fell. Cause right now, she was tumbling head over heels. Faster and faster down to the ground. Falling in love was so scary, but hopefully he would be there when she met the bottom. Keeping her from shattering to pieces.

Bucky’s smile softened into something sweet and just for her. Lightly, he used his free hand to push her hair out of her eyes. He shook his head, “I don’t think I could forget.”

All she could imagine was capturing the crinkles in his eyes and lightness of his expression on paper. Her fingers itched for a pencil. Good thing an art block never lasted forever.


	8. Beating Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! I really hope you like this chapter.  
> Sorry it took a little extra time to get out there. Unpacking boxes in a new house is a bitch.  
> Please leave some feedback! This chapter is a little intense. So be prepared <3

Slowly, Bucky packed up his watercolor supplies. Every action sluggish and tense. Like he wasn’t quite connected to the floor of her apartment, and everything was underwater. They’d finished up the touches on their projects, the finals were due tomorrow. Things were normal again for the most part. He came to class that Thursday after their talk, and they worked together at her apartment Friday. Today, though, something was off. Bucky was quieter than usual. Quieter than Y/N had seen him since the first few weeks they worked together. And that was over a month ago now.

Since he arrived at 11, Bucky did his best to not touch her. Kept all his actions close to his body and reserved. Didn’t even sit near her. Instead, he worked on one of her window seats. Across the room, while she sat on the couch. A chair pulled over to put his supplies on. Project propped up on his knees.

Every time she tried to tempt him into conversation, he would be short with her. Not mean or rude. Just, obviously not interested in talking. Most of the time, his winter blue eyes got lost peering out her window. Seeing something other than the view. Something further away than the bustling traffic down below. He never took off his hoodie, keeping his shoulders bunched up near his ears, and contorted his body into a small ball on the seat. Exactly where she’d had him sit with his hoodie off for figure drawing, but there was an entirely different mood about his pose this time.

Y/N laid her painting across the room to dry. On what used to be a rickety dining room table. Until she never ate at it and filled it was art supplies she didn’t have room for. Then she sat on the couch, giving Bucky some space so she wouldn’t accidentally see his final. He wasn’t talking as he washed out his brushes in her kitchen sink, painting up on the counter. Worried, Y/N couldn’t stand it anymore, so she hesitantly asked over the music, “Are you alright?” When he looked at her in question, she explained, “You just seem… sad today.”

Bucky tucked his paintbrushes away in his blue art pouch. He didn’t look at her at first. Kept his eyes on his brushes, carefully guiding them away so their bristles didn’t bend wrong. Then his shoulders straightened, and he gave a rueful smile that stretched wrong. Everything about him was tight like a rubber band about to snap, “It’s nothing really.” He huffed, steps short and quick as he crossed the room back to the window seat. The gloomy light filtering in through the clouds made his skin too pale. And his eyes too sharp. There was dark scruff across his cheeks like he’d forgotten to shave. Hastily, he dropped his pencil holder into his backpack along with his closed paints, “I’m just visiting my mom’s grave today.”

Taken back by the admission, she fell silent for a second. Elbows on her knees, she crossed her legs on the couch and dropped her gaze down to her hands in thought. His behavior made sense now, but he seemed so eerily calm about it. The smile he gave made her stomach drop unpleasantly fast, “Oh, that must be hard.” Y/N stated quietly, staring up at him again, but he wouldn’t look at her now. She wanting to get up and give him a hug, but she made sure to hold herself tighter to the couch. With how cagey Bucky had been all day, she figured he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“It’s gotten easier, today’s just the anniversary of her death.” Bucky roughly zipped up his backpack and stepped back to her kitchenette to pick up his phone from counter. Phone in hand, he fiddled with it for a second, speaking down to it, “She’s been gone 17 years now.” He added. The music cut off when he disconnected his phone from the speaker that she kept on one of her bookshelves. It was too quiet now.

“Is your sister going with you?” Y/N asked, standing up when he shouldered his bag. He seemed to be in a hurry to leave now that they started talking about it. It was only 4 in the afternoon. Now she understood why he mentioned leaving earlier than normal. And barely touched his painting while he was there. Just small brush strokes and additions of color, then he spent a lot of time just using her hairdryer to dry the paint faster. Still, he said it was done. Tomorrow, she’d get to tell if he just gave up on it.

Bucky shook his head, dislodging his dark hair so it fell over his forehead, “She doesn’t like going to the cemetery. Just makes her sad. Plus, she was really young when mom died. I don’t think she remembers her much anymore.” He tried to say it so nonchalantly that she knew there was nothing casual about it at all. Even the muscles in his jaw seemed tight, like every word had to be forced out through his teeth. He packed his painting away in it’s carrying case and held it securely under his arm.

Y/N met him by the door and held it open for him as he stopped in the doorway. Backpack swaying against his hip, he gave her a weak wave over his shoulder with his free hand. Not looking back. She found herself calling out, “Bucky?” He paused, looking back at her just a couple steps down the hallway. Nearly chickening out, she bit her tongue, but then asked, “Would you like me to go with you to visit her? I just—” She stuttered and quickly barreled through before he could answer her, “I want to be there for you. If you need me.” Her hand on the side of the door squeezed, anxiety making her stomach flip and twist. Strands of her hair fell from her messy bun and around her face, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Bucky’s eyes softened for a second but then he blinked, and they were vacant again. The fluorescent lights above his head flickered and his boots scuffed against the puke green carpet. Expression blank, his hand holding his bag squeezed tighter, “No, I’ll be alright.” He paused and glanced up at the ceiling for half a second, frustration making his voice rough, “I mean, I am alright.” She wasn’t very convinced, but she didn’t feel right pointing it out. He gave her yet another half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Thanks though. I’ll see you later.” Then he waved again and disappeared down the hall.

He was not alright.

 

 

 

Several hours later found her curled up on her bed with a book under her nose and her phone beside her hand. She flipped over on her back and held the book above her head, engrossed in the story of Cinder, the soon-to-be cyborg princess. Toes against her headboard, she could feel the vibration of base from her neighbor’s stereo. It tickled a little. Her phone dinged beside her, but she ignored it. It was probably Darcy, grilling her for updates on her ‘relationship’ with Bucky. Again.

Girl needed to get her own love life.

It could also be Gabby or Whitney, seeing if she wanted to come out with them again. Which she had no intentions to. Not after Halloween. It’d been about a month since she spent any time with them. Just saw them in class from every now and again. They’d apologized for everything, but Y/N was honestly just too busy to spend much time with anyone. It wasn’t that she was holding a grudge, she just had no interest. They’d dropped to the backburner of her priorities. Behind Darcy, Peter, and Bucky.

Since he left her apartment, Y/N hadn’t heard a peep from Bucky. She’d sent him one text two hours after he departed. Just letting him know that she was there if he wanted to talk. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

So now, she was attempting to ignore the worry inside. There was no reason she should be this worried about the man. He was fine. He’d been dealing with this anniversary for years now. Obviously, Bucky was a grown ass adult who could take care of himself.

A knock on her door startled her and made her drop her book on her face. Groaning, she shoved it off and sat up, rubbing at her nose. It was still sore from the laser tag fiasco, but the bruises had faded to a soft yellow. Standing up, she tugged down her short pastel sleeping shorts, and untwisted the baggy Disney shirt she had overtop. It almost looked like she wasn’t wearing pants at all.

Her apartment was dark, all except for her lights next to her bed. All the curtains were drawn shut over her wall of windows to block out the city lights. It was edging towards 8, and she had an early morning. As she walked past her kitchen, she flicked on the overhead light to illuminate her living room just a bit.

When she got to the door, carpet plush under her socks, she peeked through the peephole. The door was cold against her fingers and her stomach flipped. None other than Bucky was waiting there for her. Hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, head down with the hood up and hair sticking messily out. He looked tired and uncomfortable. All his art supplies were missing, and he rubbed his fingers against his eyes. Quickly, before he ran away, she unlocked her door and swung it open. Cold air crept in through the doorway and she instantly shivered.

“Bucky? Are you alright?” Y/N asked, stepping aside and waving him in. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and she locked it back. At first, he didn’t reply. Or even acknowledge her. Just stepped in and stripped out of his coat, draping it on the coatrack she kept next to her door. Then he untied his dripping winter boots, ice sticking to the bottom and leaving water puddles across her doormat. Left in his dark jeans, a dark blue long sleeve shirt, and socks, he finally looked up at her.

He’d been crying. There were rings under his eyes and they were still red. His hair was damp from snow, and he shifted anxiously on his feet. Eyes down and hands hidden in his back pockets. Like he was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say or do. His jaw tensed as he swallowed, and he let out a shaky breath. He took a single step closer to her, then seemed to catch himself, and immediately held himself still. Gaze flickering from her, around her apartment, and then back to her. Where it stayed. Bucky wasn’t one to run away from things, but he seemed so out of his depth.

Her heart cried out for him. Taking a couple steps forward, she opened her arms and slowly placed them around his shoulders. Every step she took, she made slowly, so he could back out if he wanted. Up on her tiptoes, she pulled him down into a hug. The moment she squeezed, he pressed his face into her shoulder and hugged her back. Bucky let out a ragged breath, and she ran her fingers through the hair on the nap of his neck. His breath was hot against her shirt, and his fingers bunched up into the fabric. Since he came down to her, she rocked back on her heels, and the scruff from his cheek brushed against her jaw and neck.

An ache filled her chest. Worry mixed with empathetic pain. His hug was tight and entirely engulfed her into him. This close, she could feel every breath he took, and the tension that filled him up from head to toe. Shoulders tight, and arms rigged. Y/N took a breath and tried to calm the galloping of her heart. Now wasn’t the time for all those emotions. He smelt faintly like cigarettes again, and she was starting to understand that he had a tendency to give into smoking when he got too upset.

After holding him to her for several long minutes, she asked, “Want to talk about it?” Her lips were near his ear, and she carded her fingers through his dark locks. Soft and damp.

Bucky shook his head, pulling back and staring down at the ground rather than meeting her eyes. His hands lingered on her hips, and she stayed close enough that her chest brushed his when she took a breath. Hands on his shoulders, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up. Gently, she smoothed his hair back off his forehead. Hazel eyes wide, he openly stared at her. As if he were surprised by the affectionate gesture. Anxiety almost made her regret it, but then his lips lifted into a sweet uneven smile. Weak at best, but it reflected in his pretty blues.

Feeling brave, Y/N felt down his arm till she squeezed the fingers of his right hand against her hip. Their warmth felt so natural against her own. Like she was meant to hold his hand. He tensed, the muscles in his hand twitching like he was deciding what to do. Not for one second did he look away from her eyes, though. Thanks to that, she saw the exact moment he resigned and interlaced his fingers with her own. Bucky’s eyes fell shut for a long second, and his shoulders sagged like he was finally relaxing. Still quiet. Still not saying a word. When his eyes opened again, they were soft and warm. Then he sighed, slotting their fingers together in return.

Heart stuttering, Y/N pressed her lips together and looked down, trying to contain what felt like the sun bursting under her skin. Her eyes fell to their hands, and she watched as Bucky’s thumb rubbed against her own. It took everything she had to keep her voice steady, “Wanna watch a movie and eat a bunch of junk food till we become one with the couch?” She rocked back on her heels, swinging their arms between them. He let her and dropped his gloved hand from her hip, .

Bucky’s crooked smile grew bigger as he chuckled and then nodded. His voice cracked when he finally spoke up. Very quietly, like he needed to speak softly to keep from falling apart, “I’d like that.”

Lightly, she tugged him over towards her kitchen area, keeping a hold on his hand. Now that he let her have it, she didn’t want to ever relinquish it if she didn’t have to, “Ok so you’re in luck. I’ve still got some cheese dip from Friday.” When they worked together two days ago, she’d got a craving and made some homemade dip. Nothing fancy, just melted Velveeta and a can of rotel. But Bucky loved it, “I’ve also got ice cream if you’d rather.”

Bucky shook his head and she reluctantly let go of his hand long enough to take the bowl out of the fridge and pop it into the microwave. He relaxed back against her counter, elbows up on it and she could feel him watching her. While that heated, she gathered up a few different bags of chips, her stash of candy, and a pint of her favorite ice cream. Bucky helped her carry it all into her living room, dumping it out onto her glass topped coffee table. Her spoon obnoxiously clattered against it when it fell off the top of the ice cream. He went back into the kitchen and grabbed the cheese dip after the microwave went off.

“I’m in a Disney mood.” Y/N confessed, and Bucky pointedly stared at her shirt with raised eyebrows. He sat the bowl of steaming dip and tossed his phone next to the lamp on the end table. Snorting, she straightened it out, “Whoops, didn’t mean to make that t-shirt reference. Care to be a child with me?” Eyebrows raised challengingly in return, she turned on the TV and gestured to her shelves of DVDs. They were arranged on either side of her entertainment center a few feet away from the windows, so she still had easy access to the fire escape.

Bucky rolled his eyes and walked over to her movie collection. He quickly found the section dedicated to all animated movies, Disney or not. Head tilted, his fingers lightly brushed over the titles, eyes narrowed in thought. After a second of pursuing, he plucked out three DVDs and offered them to her, “Only because I love the art.” He teased, still quiet when he spoke. She gave him a knowing ‘ahuh whatever you say’ look, lips pursed playfully.

Picking her favorite choice out of the three, she popped Lilo and Stitch into the player. Bucky settled himself onto her couch, feet stretched out under the coffee table. As the previews started, she went around the studio and flicked off all the lights. Just leaving the TV and the lamp near her bed to illuminate her apartment. Then Y/N rounded the futon and picked up her pint of ice cream off the table. Through the entire process, she distantly wondered if she could take Bucky’s hand again while they watched the movie. If she should even attempt to.

Inky shadows clung to her skin as she sat down closer to the center of her couch. That spot left just a modest amount of space between them. Her couch wasn’t the biggest thing in the first place, but she really wanted to see if she could hold his hand again. Thankfully, unlike earlier that morning, Bucky didn’t seem to be as uncomfortable with touch.

Bag of chips up on the table beside his arm rest, Bucky settled the bowl of dip in his lap. He snuggled back into the cushions, plucking his glove off his left hand. Then he tossed it onto the coffee table next to a bag of M&Ms. Like it didn’t bother him anymore to be without it. It amazed her how much had changed between them. He looked comfortable.

Ever since Y/N held his bare metal hand in the stairwell over two weeks ago, it was like he didn’t feel the need to keep it hidden anymore. Which made her happier. They were getting closer with every passing day.

Feet propped up on her coffee table, she opened her ice cream. The lid dropped down to the empty space at her left. Spoon in hand, she started to eat it out of the carton. Bucky watched her with an amused quirk on his lips. When she blinked up at him, he snorted, “Ever hear of a bowl?” The TV filled the background silence of her apartment with music and blocked out the noise from her neighbors. Dancing colors highlighted the sweet twist of his lips and sparkled in his still-too-tired eyes.

Sucking on her spoon, she shook her head, “Dishes suck. I don’t have a dishwasher here.” She held up her spoon, “I’ve used this same spoon for my coffee, cereal, and now this ice cream.” The wide eyed, slightly disgusted and impressed look on Bucky’s face made her giggle, “It’s called recycling.” His eyebrows were drawn down and his lips were pulled into a grimace, like he couldn’t decide if he should smile or not.

“That’s an entirely new level of lazy that I didn’t expect from you.” Bucky eventually laughed lightly, shaking his head, “I’m both impressed and terrified.” He dipped a chip into the cheese, popping it into his mouth, metal fingers glinting in the light of the TV. Pausing midchew, he tilted his head back towards her, messy hair falling into his eyes, “What do you do about laundry?”

Turning her attention back to him, a wicked grin crossed her features, “I wait till late and use two washers and dryers at once. The other tenants in the building hate when I do laundry, but I make sure it’s every Wednesday. So, they can know I’ll be taking over the place.” She hummed around her spoon, leaning forward to grab the remote and telling the movie to go ahead and play. He fell quiet after that, just shaking his head, bewildered.

Settling back, she noticed that Bucky’s hand was resting in the space between them. Either it was a coincidence, or he was purposefully eating with his left hand. While letting his right rest beside him, palm up. Who does that? His sleeve bunched up around his wrist, and the position of his fingers practically invited her own.

It felt like she was pep talking herself up to do something big. Something intense. But it was all just so she could hold his hand again. There wasn’t anything casual about this. If Y/N took his hand this time, it wouldn’t be to comfort him. Like she had every other time before. He already looked like he was feeling better. Friends held hands, but Y/N couldn’t fool herself, or likely him, into thinking this was just a friendly situation.

Fuck it. Just a few seconds of courage and she’d deal with the consequences. Pretend she wanted a chip or to get his attention. Brush it off as a joke or something.

The internal panic ‘do I/ don’t I’ lasted all of five minutes. Desperately, Y/N tried to act like she hadn’t just been intensely side eying him like a weirdo. Kept her body relaxed, fingers busy with her spoon, and her breathing even. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, he was smiling to himself over the movie, which she was completely missing. If he did notice something was off, he gave her the benefit of not letting her know.

Facing forward, she fiddled with her spoon in her right hand, and slowly slipped her left down. First, her pinky lightly brushed his. She could see him grow rigid at her left. To just assure that it wasn’t mistaken for an accident, her pinky ran over his, feeling his rough knuckle and blunt fingernail. Only peeking at him from the corner of her eye. Everything slowed down, and she became acutely aware of this moment. Of the cool draft in her apartment. The bars under the cushion of her futon digging into her back. But more than anything, she was aware of him.

When Bucky glanced up at her with questioning blues, she took a bite of ice cream and stared resolutely at the TV, not really seeing it. Thank god she’d seen this movie a million times. Bucky looked back down at their hands, then back at the movie. When his pinky brushed back against her own, she about swallowed her spoon. Then his hand moved over hers and he slotted their fingers together. His callused palm warmed the back of her hand. Thumb stroking from her outer wrist to the tip of her pinky, Bucky relaxed back and went back to eating chips. A slight lift at the corner of his full lips. A sweet little smile. But otherwise, he acted like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.  
At least to her.  
Because suddenly, just maybe, he liked her back.

 

 

 

A little over halfway through the movie, Y/N reluctantly got up and put away her ice cream which had slowly become soup. Even with her eating most of it. The freezer door shut quietly behind her and she slowly made her way back to the couch. Her hand was still tingling. Condensation from the sodas she fetched cooled her palms. Bucky peeked over his shoulder and his lips twitched up into another smile before he focused back on the movie. When she reached the couch, she hopped over the back, saving herself a couple steps, and slid back into her spot.

Bucky had transferred the cheese dip and chips back onto the coffee table, in favor of munching on M&Ms. She set her coke in front of her on the glass, and he took one gratefully, taking a swig and then placing it onto the end table beside him. Nervous, Y/N wiped her damp palms on her shirt. After she got settled, Bucky turned to her and held up the bag of M&Ms in question.

Pleasantly surprised, she took a handful, popping a few in her mouth. When Bucky’s hand found her free one, she about dropped the rest of the candy all over the couch and floor. There was nothing subtle this time. Her hand was resting all the way over in her lap, and he casually interlaced their fingers, palm to palm. Like it was the most natural action in the world. Then he brought them over to his lap, her knuckles brushed the rough material of his jeans. To get more comfortable, she scooted closer until their thighs pressed together. Then, just to test the waters, Y/N let her head rest against his shoulder. The soft cotton of his shirt rubbed against her cheek and she could smell his cologne with every breath. Butterflies filled her stomach and she wanted to ask him what this was.

What this meant. How he felt.

But Y/N didn’t. Because her fear outweighed her curiosity. If she drew attention to ambiguous moments like this, he might stop doing it. Or might say something that would make her want to pull away. She was scared to have the painful bubble of hope in her chest popped.

God she was falling from so high, she didn’t want the ground to get closer any faster than it already was. Pop that bubble, and she’d hit the earth right then.

So, she enjoyed the moment for what it was, and didn’t point it out.

 

 

 

Bucky got up to put in the next movie, and when he sat back down, he wrapped his arm easily over her shoulders. His fingers brushed the bare skin of her arm and she felt goosebumps cover her. From the simple promise that touch held. Every touch he gave her sent up sparks. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised, “Cold?”

Y/N blushed, mortified, and nodded, “Y-Ya just a little.” She might have been a bit chilly in her shorts and threadbare t-shirt, but the December air wasn’t what made her shiver. There was no reason that he needed to know that, though. Bucky glanced around, sitting up, and found the spare blanket she kept for her drafty apartment on her recliner. Quickly, he fetched it for her and grinned, triumphant. Blanket in hand, he spread it over their laps, tucking it up to her chest and over her arms. Then he pulled her back to him, rubbing her arm. Like the friction could make her feel any warmer than she already did.

“Better?” He asked, and Y/N shyly glanced up at him, cheek against his chest. It felt like she was floating. His breath fanned her face and she could taste the chocolate off his lips when he spoke.

Licking her lips, her mouth was filled with webs and she tried to swallow the spider caught in her throat. For a second, Bucky’s eyes flickered down, and her breath hitched, “M-Much.” It was hard to breathe right when he was this close.

Eyes back on her own, Bucky looked down again, “Hm?” He hadn’t heard her the first time. She wasn’t sure if it was because she had quietly stuttered, or he was distracted by something. Like her mouth. If only.

“I feel better.” She clarified, and her fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, feet up on the couch, “Warmer.” Everything felt soft right then. The emotions in his eyes, his shirt in her hand, the blanket wrapped around them, and even the background music of Mulan. It would be an unforgettable first kiss if he’d just close the distance between them.

Instead, Bucky focused down to where her hand was resting out of view against his stomach. His left hand snaked under the blanket and cupped over hers. His expression was curious, and he studied her, a tender shyness there she’d never seen before. The plates were cold, and she tensed, which made him start to pull back. Expression crumbling as he winced at what he must have thought was rejection. Before he could get far, she caught his hand and smiled when he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Don’t.” Y/N whispered, locking her fingers with his. The metal plates were rough and chilly against her soft skin, “Its ok. Just cold.” With her chin tilted up, their faces were dangerously close. Every flash of an expression was easy to see from this proximity.

Y/N had never seen Bucky blush so fiercely before. The bright color covered his cheeks and then up to his ears. Down to his chest, disappearing beneath the stretched-out collar of his dark blue shirt. He blinked and searched her eyes, mouth open like he wanted to say something. His metal thumb brushed hers and he clenched his jaw. So many emotions flitted across his face and he shook his head. Like he was trying to deny something to himself. Or deny what was happening. Overwhelmed. His eyebrows drew together low and his head ducked down as he looked away from her for a second. She wanted to say something else but then he was surging forward and pressing a warm lingering kiss to her forehead.

Everything stilled. Quieted behind the roaring of her heart. Her entire body warmed, and her breath stopped. Caught off guard and short-circuited in her lungs. She tightened her grip on his hand, eyes closed and then it was over. Before she could fully process what was happening or how she should even react. What she should say.

Bucky’s hand around her shoulder brushed through her hair. When he leaned back a tear escaped down his cheek, shining against his flushed skin. His eyes were so blue they reminded her of a torrential storm. Tears brimmed in them and he tried to blink them away. He let out a sharp breath, like he’d just run a marathon, “Never change. Ok? No matter what. Promise me. You'll always be yourself.” He was edging towards desperate, right hand against the back of her neck, holding onto her firmly. But it didn’t hurt.

It felt like he plucked a violin string inside her heart. A high clear note resonated in her and filled her veins with a humming melody. If she didn’t know it before, then she knew it now. Y/N adored this boy. To her very core. Cared for him fiercely. Afraid of spooking him, she slowly brought up her free hand and cupped his cheek, brushing away the tear, “Promise.” she replied, there were so many other things she wanted to say but they tangled behind her tongue. Each fighting to come out first.

This could be the moment that she confessed everything. In these sweet seconds where Bucky was more open and vulnerable than she had ever seen him. Before she could find the right thing to say, he blinked, and was suddenly uncomfortable. And receding back away from her. Swept away by an emotional tidal wave that he wouldn’t let her understand. Wouldn’t explain to her.

Bucky let out a quick, nervous laugh, “I um, got to go to the um,” He pointed over her head towards the bathroom, “I'll be right back.” Standing up, he bunched up the blanket and released her. Let go of her hand and took all the soft warmth with him. Y/N wanted to protest, but he already had his back to her, and was one step away from running to her bathroom. His kiss still lingered like a ghost on her forehead even as he retreated further away. Rubbing at his face and glancing back at her nervously.

What just happened?

It took Bucky an entire 10 minutes to come back. Long enough that Mulan had already met Mushu and got into her first fight. Make a Man Out of You played from her TV. The entire 10 minutes, Y/N went through a series of emotions. Happy, scared, excited, and concerned. Most of all, nervous.

When he sat back down beside her, she tried not to stare. She tried not to notice that he kept enough space between them that he didn’t touch her. But of course, her anxiety made her notice everything. An awkward silence made her twist her fingers in the blanket. She wondered if she should bring it up. Bring up the obvious moment they just had. Finally lay it all down on the table. Hand him her heart and ask if he wanted it.

Bucky answered it for her. He let out a slow breath and looked over at her with a carefully blank expression. She felt her stomach dive to the gutter because fairytale confessions never came from that sort of look. He swallowed and started, “I'm um sorry about that. I’ve been having a lot of… issues, lately.” That was putting it mildly. Panic started to sweep up twisting winds inside of her. With every word, they built into an awful storm. Reluctantly, she turned to face him better, tugging at the loose tag on the blanket still wrapped around her legs.

“It’s ok. I don’t mind being there for you. Issues and all.” She inserted quickly, smiling. Maybe if he knew he wasn’t hurting her, or upsetting her, then it would solve whatever issues he was having, “I just want to help.” Y/N ended with a casual shrug that felt one particle away from being made of brittle plastic. Unintentionally, she leaned back against the futon, and sunk down just a bit. Making herself small. Like that would make him not continue this conversation.

Bucky bit his lip and guilt crossed his features. Made his eyes shift from her own every few seconds. Like it pained him to stare at her for too long. God no don’t let him say anything. She wanted to take her heart and throw it away. Bury it before the words that made him nervously rub his left hand could leave his tongue. Was he having phantom pains?

“I know and you're great.” An aborted attempt at a laugh made his lips twist before he snapped his mouth shut and continued, “But I don’t want to mess this up. I want us to be friends.” His words were stuttered, and he turned to face her completely. Leg up on the couch and hands clenched in his lap. Like facing this situation head on would make it easier. His thumb pressed into his left wrist, and down the center of his palm unconsciously. He’d told her once that anxiety made his phantom pains flare up.

Friends.

Everything went hot. Embarrassment and heartbreak made her skin prickles with anxiety. Like needles raining down onto her. She stared at him and knew he had to see something. Hurt. Disappointment. Humiliation. Something was written on her face because his jaw clenched, and he looked away again. Down at his lap. He took a breath, and when he peeked back up at her, his expression was shut down again. Blank like an untouched canvas.

A small voice inside her whispered that this must have been the look he carried as a soldier.

Words formed on his lips, but it took her a minute to process them. She was watching his hands. The twist of his fingers, and the way the silver reflected the light of the TV. It was still dark in her apartment. Intimate, and she was grateful because maybe he wouldn’t see all the gory details of her heart breaking.

“I want you in my life. My heads been so messed up lately and I've been letting it affect how I've treated you. I'm sorry if I led you on or anything.” Bucky’s voice started strong and firm. But towards the end it grew thick and cracked over ‘sorry’. She blinked. He was apologizing more and more every day.

Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.  
Honestly, if she started to cry, she wouldn’t stop. And she didn’t want to do that to him.

Swallowing, she nodded and fought the urge to run and make it worse. To just stand up and walk away. Put her hands over her ears and pretend she wasn’t hearing him. Instead, she stated, a little too quiet and frail, “Its ok.” How did things change so quickly? Situations could change on a dime. Now she was hitting the ground, and no one was there to catch her.

It was funny in a dark humor sort of way.  
Funny that she expected anything else.

Disbelief, and shock shone in Bucky’s stare. His hair highlighted blue from the TV and cast shadows over his cheeks. It was getting long. When he continued to silently stare, she gave a weak shrug. If she kept shrugging, maybe she’d believe herself too, “I don’t want to stop being your friend. You haven't done anything to make me uncomfortable or whatever else you're worried about.” Y/N’s hands moved as she talked, and she tried to make her words light. Not weighted by the tears making his face blur to nothing more than dripping colors. She took another calming breath, “Whatever you want to do to feel better, I'm ok with.”

It felt like they were having a conversation in between the lines. Not bluntly talking about their feelings. He seemed unwilling to state that he didn’t like her back. Maybe to spare her further mortification. Or maybe because this was all too awkward for him. And stating it bluntly was just too hard. Everything would be so much easier if she had the power to be angry.

To hate him for making her feel like this. To shove him out of her life and make a clean cut. Pretend he didn’t exist. But it was too late for that sort of thing. And she wasn’t the kind of girl to fly off the handle over something that wasn’t even his fault.

His feelings were valid, and she couldn’t make him feel any other way. Even if she wished he liked her back.

Bucky nodded, pain making his eyebrows draw together, “Good um, good cause I really don’t want to mess this up and lose you.” He stressed, reaching up and touching her shoulder. Squeezing. It was probably meant to be comforting. The words ricocheted inside of her. Cracking at her bones and echoing in the void where her heart used to be. His touch burned, and she jerked back. Making him snap his hand away. Didn’t even mean to. It just felt like every intimate touch he’d ever given her was a lie. He had her standing on quick sand and now the ground was swallowing her up.

They stared at each other quietly. Both in white hot surprise before their faces crumpled.

It looked like Bucky wanted to cry again. Hurt twisted up his features and then he looked away. Hands clenching into fists. Instantly she wanted to make him feel better, but now she didn’t know how she could do that anymore.  
It felt like she was being forced to eat glass.

“Sorry,” Y/N muttered, swallowing and trying to figure out how to play it off, “Just—”

“It’s ok.” Bucky cut her off, sitting up straighter and rubbing his hands on his jeans. He took a breath, composing himself, then met her eyes seriously, “Are you ok?” It warmed her that he was concerned, but it also irritated her. How could he expect her to tell the truth?

No. She wasn’t ok. Not now and probably not for a long time.

Meeting his eyes, Y/N nodded. It felt like all they could do was nod. Nod and accept the situation. Nod and pretend it was ok. Nod instead of saying anything worthwhile. As best she could, she forced a smile, “Ya, I'm fine.” It was strange to think that he had to know at least some fraction of how she felt about him. Despite her not saying it, they both knew it. Yet, the only way their friendship could survive was if they ignored the bleeding heart in the room.

Bucky looked away, lips pressed in a fine line. His fingers tapped against his knee. After a second, he stilled and gave the best smile he could. Then he picked up the remote and asked, “Care if I back it up? Missed most of my favorite parts.” Change the subject. That was probably the most logical move to make now. He turned back to face the TV, feet on the carpet, only glancing at her to see her response.

Numbly, Y/N shook her head, “Go ahead,” She waved at the TV, “Missed a lot of mine too.” Shifting on the couch to face forward, she slid to the other end. Tried to ignore how ridiculously cold she felt leaning against the other armrest. This she could do. Mindlessly check out while something played in the background. Ignore it all. Distantly, she wished she could rewind this night. Back to when she still had hope. Before she felt numb and sick.

Just don’t cry.

 

 

 

There was no telling what time it was. But suddenly the background noise of the TV turned off. Immediately, the quiet pulled her from the recesses of sleep. Before she drifted off, they’d finished Mulan and started Bolt. It wasn’t horribly awkward the entire time. By the end of Mulan, they were making snarky jokes back and forth about the climatic fight. Even so, something had shifted. And not in a good direction.

Her cheeks were cold and damp. Nose a bit stuffy. Slowly, she realized that she’d been crying in her sleep. From a dream she didn’t remember. Or maybe a memory she wanted to forget. There was something warm and soft underneath her cheek. Still drowsy, she groaned and nuzzled into the warmth. Only to realize her head was on Bucky’s shoulder. God, she didn’t want to let him know she was awake.

Y/N was at her threshold for painful mortification for the day. She didn’t even know how she got there. Obviously, he was too polite to push her off. Which only made this worse. Once he moved her off, cause he had to at some point, she would pretend to wake up in a less compromising position. Then kick him out and crawl under the covers. Maybe not get out for a while.

Bucky sat there in the silence of her living room for a while. Didn’t move much, she barely even felt it when he put the remote back down. It had to be dark without the TV on. Even her neighbors were quiet. Just the humming of her fridge, and the distant traffic down below broke up the quiet.

Despite being still, she could feel him watching her sleep. Like every time she posed for him, his gaze scorched trails down her skin. So, she kept her breathing long and even, and her face carefully blank.

It took all her self-control not to flinch when his thumb brushed over her cheek. A soft caress. Just for a second. Did he know she’d been crying? Then he sighed, long and tired, and shifted under her. Gently, he let her head rest against the back of the couch. Then stood. But before Y/N could ‘wake up’ he smoothly scooped her into his arms. It was such an effortless shift that she didn’t think it would have woken her if she was still out. Sideways against his chest. Her head on his shoulder, legs over his left arm, and his right arm supported her back. Then he was carrying her like she weighed nothing across the room. Footsteps silent, breathing quiet, and the way he held her made her feel safe.

But she needed to stop feeling that way.

Next thing Y/N knew, he laid her down in her bed. Head on a pillow, he adjusted her legs to make sure she was stretched out. Even the clinical brush of his hands on her skin left sparks behind. Methodically, he tugged her messy blankets over her body. Getting her comfortable. Hands smoothed out the tangled sheets and tucked in her feet. Through it all, Bucky was quiet. The soft light of her lamp shone gold behind her closed eyelids. At this point, she didn’t want him to know she was awake for entirely different reasons. Now she wanted to know what he would do.

Nothing happened for a minute. His hands left her, but she could feel him still studying her. It was tempting to peek up at him. To just take a look… Then his hand brushed back the hair on her forehead. The touch was soft, but not as tender as the kiss he placed on her brow. For the second time that night. But he didn’t pull away right after. His breath fanned her face, and as light as a single drop of rain, his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. Warm and lingering. It felt like he sent a shock into her heart, making it beat again.

Soft words formed against her cheek, “Goodnight doll.” Then he stood up straight, and her heart went dark again.

Flicking off the light of her lamp, he slipped away without another word. No late, secret love confession. No words of regret. Nothing. The kisses could mean anything. Just affection that he didn’t want in return. Just a consolation prize because he felt sorry for her. Felt guilty for not returning her feelings.

She didn’t know. And, once again, she was too scared to ask.

Frozen, she listened to him gather his things in the dim moonlight of her apartment. Put on his coat. Tie up his boots. Find his phone. All the while Y/N willed herself to stand up. To demand to know why he was so confusing. To call him out on the fact that it felt like he liked her back. That his actions and words didn’t make sense. And if he didn’t like her back, why not?

But she didn’t.

Then the door shut behind him with a click.  
And she opened her eyes.

In the silence of her apartment, she covered her mouth with both hands and stared up at her dark ceiling. Tears slid down her cheeks to her pillow as she tried to contain her broken sobs. Afraid Bucky might somehow hear her. Why wasn’t she good enough? Why did he have to leave a hint of his mouth on her lips? Like a taste of something she couldn’t have. It was cruel. Those kisses were cruel.

Heart nothing more than a suffering ache behind her ribs, she curled up into a ball. There was nothing left inside of her. Everything she had was ripped out and gone away with him. Out her door. Without her.


	9. Heart on a Canvas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo life caught up with me basically. I've got a new full time job in a new state that's taking some getting used to.  
> But I'm not giving up! I love this story and I'm invested and it's killed me to not have time to write.  
> This is my happy place.  
> In order to accommodate and hopefully get a new chapter out every week, or every other week if things don't work out,   
> my chapters are going to get a little shorter. I'm going to try and restrain myself, but still be proud of them.
> 
> I hope you guys can work with me and stick around.  
> I've got another Bucky story coming up involving ghosts and circuses......  
> BUT I'm forcing myself to at least finish a rough draft before I start posting it.   
> This is the only story I'm going to allow myself to write on a week by week basis.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on the last chapter and for giving me so much support.  
> It really means a lot to me and I love hearing everything that you have to say.  
> Enjoy! <3

Sharp pounding on her door drew her out of a very deep sleep. It dug into her temples and instantly pissed her off. Groggy, Y/N reached out a heavy arm and patted around on her nightstand until she found her phone. The light made her eyes squint, and she brushed her tangled hair back off her face. 10AM. It was 10AM on a Friday morning. Her day off. One of the few days she didn’t have anywhere to be until the afternoon. Just fantastic.

Annoyed, she tossed her phone beside her on the bed and groaned, scrubbing at her face. As if that would make the dust bunnies in her head clear up. Then the banging started up again. Growling, Y/N sat all the way up and kicked at the knotted blankets around her feet. They fell off the bed in a clump, and chills sliced down her spine from the brisk morning air. Pale blue sunlight filtered in from her drawn curtains.

Somehow, she managed to clamber out of bed and shouted, voice rough from sleep, “I’M COMING!” The knocking stopped for a minute, and she yanked at her tank top, straightening it. The air nipped at her toes, and she stumbled over to her bathroom door. Fluffy robe in hand, she loosely tied it on. Covering her bare legs, and underwear. Not a care in the world about how she might look. Just brushed a hand through her hair to get it out of her face and headed to the door.

Flinging it open, Y/N automatically glared at the three men across the threshold in the dimly lit hall, “Can I help you?” She asked, yawning halfway through. Words muffled by the hand over her mouth, she slumped against the door to keep herself standing.

The first guy gave her a very unimpressed once over, and scratched at his balding head, “We’re here to fix a leak.” He drawled. When she continued to stare at him, dumbfounded, he slowly elaborated, “Your landlord said you’ve been complaining about a leak in your kitchen.” Even from where she was, she could smell his abundant amounts of aftershave. See the sweat stains along his shirt. Could even count the little scabs littering his neck from nicking himself shaving. Yet he was looking at her like she was an idiot.

Blearily, Y/N blinked and glanced over at her kitchen in question before it finally dawned on her, “Oh! Ya, there’s this huge stain. Luckily, it just drips into my sink. Not the floor.” She nodded, happy the landlord finally listened after months of complaining, but then frowned, “He didn’t tell me he scheduled anything.” Eyebrows together, she stood up straighter and fidgeted with her pale blue robe, adjusting the belt. The man’s dark eyes were roaming across her just a hair more than she appreciated.

Shrugging, the balding guy, his nametag called him Rick, tilted his head, “Do you want us to fix it or not?” He asked. Behind him, the other two were playing around on their phones. Already checked out for the moment. Lazily, Rick glanced down at his notepad, and tapped at it with a pen.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder and bit her lip, “How long’s it gonna take?” The open doorway let a cool draft that fluttered the edges of her robe around her legs. Goosebumps covered her thighs, and she really wanted to be doing anything else but this.

Yet again, his shoulders bobbed up and then down, “Depends on the damage. Hopefully we’ll get it done today. If not, we’ll come back tomorrow. Got someplace you can go to kill some hours? We’ll be out no later than 7 tonight.” A hint of impatience made his words sharper at the ends. He scribbled something down with his pen, scratching it on the top corner like he was trying to get ink to come out.

Ya, Y/N had somewhere she could go. Just hadn’t planned on actually going today. It took her just a minute to think about it. To hesitate. There was no guarantee that her landlord would follow through with rescheduling. He was flighty like that. And if the leak got worse, she could see him trying to pin it on her. Make her pay for it. Say that it was her fault.

Reluctantly, she stepped back, and waved them in, “Ya, just let me get around. I’ll be out of your way in a bit.” When the door shut behind them, she tried to hide a grimace. Their shoes were muddy, and no one offered to take off their boots. Well, the carpet was already stained to hell. Not like it would be very noticeable. But it was rude.

After showing them the leak, Y/N disappeared into her bathroom for a shower. Took her time, and even blow-dried her hair instead of letting it dry on its own. Dressed and ready for the day, she could hear them banging around in her kitchen. Loudly. She peaked out and saw that they had started digging in the ceiling. Her kitchen had a dropped ceiling with panels. They had at least three panels scattered along her floor. Along with debris and questionable dust.

One of the other guys, David, spotted her over by her bed, and called, “It’s going to take us at least today to fix the pipe. Nothing too bad, but we want to be safe.” He offered her a thin-lipped smile. At least he was trying to be polite. Toolbox in hand, and handing supplies to the other two up on stepstools. Distantly, she wondered why it took three big guys to fix one leak. Rick cursed and yanked a wrench from David’s hand, growling out something she couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it didn’t make David happy. He rolled his eyes and dropped the toolbox down on her counter, hard. Before she could get too stressed out, she turned away and tried to not think about the mess they were making.

Honestly, Y/N didn’t know a thing about plumbing, or maintenance and she didn’t care. Even if she should. So, she walked away and picked her phone off her nightstand and shot her landlord an email to thank him for finally sending guys over to fix the issue. And to also, subtly, verify that he did indeed send them. That they didn’t just pick an unfortunate mark for a robbery. Even if they had, she didn’t have much they could steal. Just some ridiculously expensive, used, art supplies that probably didn’t have a good resell value.

Legs crossed up on her bed, she felt a shot of pain twinge through her ribs. A quiet, tired sigh left her as she racked a hand through her hair and stared up at her ceiling for a second. Despite feeling better after her shower, Y/N’s stomach twisted as she glanced back down at her phone. Specifically, at her text messages. Bucky had messaged her around 9, before she woke up.

**Bucky:** _Still want me to come over at 1?_

No. No she didn’t. At least she had a legitimate excuse as to why he couldn’t come over. Before, she planned to just fake a stomach bug or something equally juvenile. Her thumbs hovered over her keypad, debating on what she should send back. If anything.

Things weren’t ok. Hadn’t been in nearly a week. Since last Sunday, she’d only seen him in class Monday and Thursday.

Monday had been the worst.

 

**Monday, December 3 rd**

 

> If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were presenting their final watercolor projects, Y/N would have skipped class. She felt sick enough. Dehydrated from crying. Exhausted from a restless night of tossing and turning. Between intermittent bursts of pathetic sobbing. It was obvious that she was nothing more than a reanimated corpse. Shadowed rings under her eyes, ashen skin, and she could barely manage to stand upright. All wrapped up in an oversized cozy hoodie, and unwashed hair scooped up in a tangled knot.
> 
> “Y/N?” Ramsey’s voice tickled her ears, and she blinked, looking over at him curiously. Standing only a few students away from her, annoyance radiated from the firm grinding of his jaw. Right along with the way his mouth disappeared in a fine line within the bushy hair of his beard. He raised his equally thick eyebrows at her, pointedly gesturing to the front of the room, “I was asking if you had any thoughts on Mr. Barnes’ work.”
> 
>  Embarrassed, fiery scarlet crawled across her skin, and she reluctantly looked over at Bucky. Fully acknowledging him for the first time that day. The entire class was gathered, as usual, for a critic. She hovered near the back of the crowd, arms buried in her deep front pocket, barely registering the class at all. Everything was just white noise. Like flickering static on a TV set. And Y/N just floated above it all. A specter to her own life.
> 
> Bucky was staring at her, eyes shining with hesitant curiosity. She’d not said anything about his project since he got up there. Hadn’t even reacted. Which was uncharacteristic of their relationship. Even meeting his eyes made her want to cry. Like his mere presence was crippling. It was pathetic. She averted her eyes to the painting instead, taking a step to the side so she could see past an older guy in front of her. Nails digging into her palms to distract her.
> 
> The painting was good. Emotionally moving even. It was of a group of men. Soldiers. Walking together towards the viewer. They’re all beat up, and obviously exhausted. The color pallet was limited to brown, green, white and red. The red was used sparingly, careful to not muddy it up with the green and brown. She could just make out Steve and Bucky in the painting. They were the focus, closest to the viewer, and leaning on each other. Bucky’s arm was around Steve’s shoulder, using him as a crutch. The painting was so impressionistic, that Y/N figured most people wouldn’t even recognize Bucky in the work.
> 
> Just a group of men, walking into the light with their shadows stretched out behind them. Like they’re heading towards something better. Hoping to leave the worst darkness behind them.
> 
> Bucky had vaguely mentioned it was inspired by different events he witnessed during his time at war. Men grateful to finally go home.
> 
> Suddenly aware that she’d been silent for too long again, Y/N awkwardly shrugged, “It’s beautiful. Like all of his work.” The words were stilted and cracked somewhere along the way into the air. Chin down, she shuffled her feet. Tried to ignore the eyes on her. Ignore the momentary flash of disappoint across Bucky’s face, before it was buried again. He stared away from her too, at a point on the floor a few feet in front of him. His eyes distant, and expression perfectly chiseled into nonchalance. Like he wasn’t bothered by anything at all. Lately, he hid behind a blank mask. Just shut it all down.
> 
> If only she could too.
> 
> Ramsey stared at her, surprised, and waited for her to add anything else. It was her most pathetic critic ever, and she was entirely aware. But her head and heart both hurt. And when she accidentally met Bucky’s eyes again, all she could think about was the ache chewing away inside of her.
> 
> If it didn’t stop soon, there wouldn’t be anything left inside at all.

 

Pressing her lips together, Y/N hit call on her phone and held it up to her ear. Her hand was sweaty, and she hugged her free arm around her ribs. Like maybe she could hold back the overwhelming sense of dread if she just squeezed hard enough. There was a string of banging, and clattering to her right just past her dividing bookshelf. Along with deep, monotone strings of buzzing conversation. But she barely heard any of it.

Just let it ring to voicemail. Please don’t pick up. Eyes shut, she bit her bottom lip hard enough to almost drop blood.

It rang three times before Bucky answered, “Hey! I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep the day away.” He chuckled, the melody to unlock her heart. The smile in his voice made her lips turn up a little, making her teeth release their abusive hold. But hers was a bittersweet sort of smile.

“If only,” She huffed and covered her other ear to block out the noise filling her apartment, “I’ve got some bad news. My landlord schedule maintenance on the leak in my kitchen. Didn’t even tell me. These guys are gonna be here all day, so we can’t meet up.” Her toes curled under her thighs, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. With every word, she wondered if he could hear the tremor of anxiety in her voice. It was so embarrassingly obvious to her.

Of course, Y/N didn’t mention alternatives. Like the library, or even one of the studio classrooms at Orion. Because she didn’t have the heart to see him. Or the heart to disappoint him by bluntly admitting to being too weak to see him. Neither felt like an option.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but then he offered, “We can work at my place if you want.” He sounded hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. The offer made her suck in a surprised breath and sat up straighter.

To be fair, Y/N couldn’t believe it either. She’d never been to his apartment before. Had started to think she never would. Immediately, she had a war going on inside of her. She wanted to but didn’t want to. Was so damn curious about his place, but it hurt to even be around him at this point. Wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to do him the curtsy of keeping her emotions in check. She covered her face with her hand, and curled forward, like she might hide inside of herself. Elbows on her knees, she tried to calm her mind, blocking out the sudden blast of music from someone’s phone in her kitchen. Some obnoxiously loud rock band.

As of late, she felt like a ticking timebomb. One wrong word, or touch, and her façade would rip apart. Sometimes she wanted to scream at him. Other times beg for an explanation, or just cry like a baby. Then, every other minute, she was just numb, but that didn’t make for good company either. All those emotions were just barely held back by her fingers, and she was tired. So tired.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked softly, standing up and walking over to the window in her bedroom area. Restless. She parted the thick curtains and stared up at the heavy, grey sky, “They’ll be out of here by Sunday, you could just come over then.” If he’d just agree to a reschedule, maybe she could put herself back together by Sunday. Bury it all and be the friend he wanted her to be.

An early Christmas miracle.  
Afterall, it was December.

Sometimes Y/N wondered, if given the option to go back. All the way back to two months ago. To the moment she asked him to be her partner, what she’d do. Would she still ask him? Honestly, she wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it would just be easier to have never met James Buchanan Barnes.

“I really don’t mind.” Bucky replied, conviction getting stronger with every syllable, “You need all the practice you can get with acrylic.” He added, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N fiercely loathed acrylic. It was the next section of their class, now that they were done with watercolor. And it was Bucky’s favorite. Which made his help very valuable.

Biting her bottom lip, she let her forehead rest against the cold window. It was starting to snow. Thick, heavy white drops drifted down from the darkening sky. Pure crystals that blotted out the muddy streets of the city below. Y/N huffed, trying to keep the frustration out of her words, “They want me out of here till 7. I don’t want to get in the way.” She tried. It was the last excuse she could come up with. At least, without making it obvious that she was actively avoiding him.

Another beat of silence passed. Despite the harsh weather outside, throngs of people passed under her window. Finishing their work before the weekend. Rick cursed behind her and yelled at one of the guys to steady the ladder. The sound of Bucky’s voice focused her hazy mind, “I’d really like to see you today.” It was a timid, sweet admission, that made her lungs stumble. He added, “But if you don’t want to, I get it. Really.” Of course he did, because he could read her well enough to understand. Understand that she was practically a raw nerve left out in the winter wind.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed the lump in her throat, “I’ll be over in a bit.” She wanted to see him too. Because the really fucked up part about it all, was that the person who made her feel better also hurt her at the same time. A perfectly figurative double-edged sword.

“See you soon.” Bucky finished before hanging up. For a second, he sounded just as grim as she felt. With just those three words. She pressed her phone to her chest and tried to ignore the bubbling excitement at getting to see him. Because right along beside it, was a flowing tar river of dread and heartbreak. Things weren’t getting any easier like she had hoped they would over time.

Desperately, Y/N wished she could skip the heartbreak part. Skip ahead to the point where she figured out how to be Bucky’s friend. Just his friend. Figured out what was ok to do and say. To a point where she knew what crossed the boundaries he was trying to set. To a place where she wasn’t an emotional ball of knotted string.

 

 

 

Bucky met her at the entry way of his apartment. Soft snow clung to her hair, and she dusted it off her backpack. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he stood up from the stairwell, coming over to meet her at the door. There was a moment where his arms came up, like he was about to hug her, but then he stopped. Let them fall, and gave her a small smile, “Just got to um, get my mail really quick.”

“Ok,” Y/N replied, ignoring the disappointment that he hadn’t hugged her. It shouldn’t be surprising. Since Sunday, he’d avoided most physical contact. Didn’t stand too close to her. Didn’t touch her arm to get her attention anymore. And, of course, hadn’t hugged her since Sunday either.

If it wasn’t for his obvious attempts to spend time with her, and talk, she’d think they’d only just met again.

He turned away from her, and she shuffled away from the door. Out of the way of a couple who were coming in from the weather. A gust of air chased them in and swirls of snow swept across the stained, tiled floor. The lobby was cold, and she rubbed at her gloved fingers. Bucky clicked the lock of his box, just to the left of the door, and she watched him quickly sort through the mail. Up ahead, the staircase started, and beyond that, under the stairwell, was the landlord’s office. As well as the laundry room. The building was old and drafty. Too much brick and not a lot of windows. If she looked up, she could see the twisting of the creaking staircase up all five floors.

The woman snickered as she started up the stairs, and then squealed when her boyfriend yanked at the tail of her scarf and chased after her. Y/N could hear them laughing and the echoing of their footsteps all the way up. Until a door slammed and cut off the carrying sounds of their joy.

Bucky glanced over at her, locking it back, and held up the mail, “Just junk and bills. Shouldn’t have expected much else.” She noticed how tense he seemed. Nervous and tired under the mask of content, casual banter. It showed in the deep circles under his eyes, and the jittery way he moved his hands and held himself too straight. Not too long ago, she’d concluded that Bucky didn’t sleep much. Somehow, it seemed he was sleeping even less.

“No one writes letters anymore.” Y/N mused, trying to mimic his casual pointless chatting. She could do this, “It’s a shame.” Hands tucked in her pockets, she shrugged, and took a step closer to the stairs. Part of her was excited to see the inside of his apartment, but she had no idea how she was going to survive 7 hours of this. Pretending everything was ok.

“Damn right it is.” Bucky snorted, waving for her to follow him to the staircase. Didn’t have an elevator, so she enjoyed a three story climb up the echoing, wooden and iron stairway.

By the time they reached the third floor, Y/N was winded. Bucky hadn’t even broken a sweat. He grinned cheekily at her over his shoulder, “When it gets warmer, you should come on jogs with me.” He pulled his keys from his pants pocket and shuffled through the ring with his free hand. Distractedly glancing between the keys and her as he stopped in front of a dark wooden door. His gloved hand tapped his mail against his thigh, impatient, or just nervous.

Unimpressed, she rolled her eyes, leaning against the pale green wall next to his door, “What? You gonna drive all the way to my apartment, and drag me to Central Park?” It would take him 30 minutes alone to just drive there.

Bucky’s smile didn’t fade as he unlocked his apartment door, “Maybe. Don’t tempt me.” He swung the door open and held it for her to come inside. When she stepped past him, she made sure to keep her arms close to herself. To keep from accidentally touching him.

His apartment wasn’t what she thought it would look like, but it suited him. It was about the same size as her studio apartment but broken up with walls. From the doorway, she stood in the small pathway between the living room and kitchen. The back of a couch to her right, and a counter to her left. The living room doubled as a studio. A couch, two black beanbags, and TV stand took up half the room closest to the door. To her left stood the small kitchenette, no bigger than her own, sectioned off with a counter. A hallway opened past the kitchen, disappearing around the bend. Likely leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Bucky was watching her observing everything. Hands propping him up against the back of the couch. Mail and glove discarded on the kitchen counter. In a soft blue sweater, and dark jeans with paint stains he was the epitome of a dreamy artist. Eyes bright against the color of the shirt, and dark strands framing his face. Dried green paint clung to his fingertips, even speckling the silver of his left hand.

After taking off her soggy boots next to his at the door, Y/N dropped her bag next to the armrest of the couch. Bypassing it to cross the far side of the room. Next to the only window in the room, stood a wide wooden desk. A tall silver lamp and bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf was overflowing, and scraps of paper littered every available space. Sketchbooks were stacked haphazardly against the wall on the floor, most too big to fit into a drawer. Drawings and notes covered every spare inch of the cream-colored wall around the window.

Quietly, she studied every drawing she could. Some she recognized. The bakery where he worked, half sketches of the street view from his apartment, Steve, animals, scenery from the park, a girl she suspected was his sister from the dimple on her chin, and even a few of herself. And more. So many more.

Distracted, she unzipped her coat, slipping it off and holding it against her chest. After a minute, Bucky cleared his throat and she jerked, he was right behind her, “These are just some I’m proud of, or ideas I haven’t finished.” He explained, standing to her right. The grey light from the window made his eyes shine molten silver, “I was thinking, maybe would watch a movie while we work?” He lifted his dark eyebrows, gaze darting over her features, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Already feeling her nerves getting the best of her, Y/N nodded and made her way back to her bag. Just wanting to keep her hands busy, she tugged out her art supplies, “Sure, what you got in mind?” First her 9x12 Bristol sketchbook, then travel set of paints, pencils, bag of brushes and eraser. She sat on the couch, flipping to the page she’d already been working on. A drawing of the Brooklyn bridge.

Bucky’s lips flickered like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite manage it, “I was thinking a Marvel marathon?” He grabbed his own sketchpad off his desk, and two cups for rinse water. He tucked a clean paintbrush behind his ear, his sketchpad under his arm, the cups stacked in his one hand, and a few other brushes in his other. Tubes of paint were already scattered on the coffee table, along with a pallet stained with green paint.

Pencil in hand, Y/N snorted, “Don’t know if we’ve got that kinda time, but sure. I haven’t seen Captain America in a while.”

 

 

 

They worked without talking too much until close to 6. Only stopping to pop a frozen pizza in the oven and eat sometime around 2. Bucky on one of the bean bag chairs closer to the left side of the TV. She ended up on the floor, back against the couch, so she could spread out her paints. The hardwood floor underneath her made her butt numb, but she didn’t have to worry about being too messy. It’d clean up easier here than her carpet. Which had plenty of paint stains she’d have to pay for when she moved out.

It wasn’t as unbearable as Y/N expected it to be, but every so often she still felt a knife twist around inside her. With a constant weight on her body, pressing her down like a shadowy shroud, every action was strained. She was attempting to paint a robin on a branch. Had given up on her bridge an hour ago. Was about to give up on the bird too. The feathers were getting clumped together, and kind of starting to look like a mutant falcon of some sort. Her fine pencil lines lost in her clumsy use of a paintbrush.

“I really liked your watercolor piece.” Bucky stated, pretty much out of the blue. Y/N paused and peeked up at him for the first time in a few hours. She’d made it a point to stare at her horrible painting the entire time, and even when she needed help, she didn’t ask for it. Because she didn’t want him to be as close to her as he would need to be to help save her painting.

It took her a second to pull her mind away from her work and focus in on him and his words. Her paintbrush stilled, and she lifted it up, holding the top edges of her sketchbook. Slowly, she stretched out her legs, flexing her ankles to regain feeling in her feet. The sketchbook came to rest flat on her thighs, and she frowned. Oh ya, her painting from Monday, “Thank you.” That was all she had to say to him Monday, and that was all she could think to say to him now.

 

**Monday, December 3**

 

> Ramsey, spurred on by spiteful annoyance at her lack of response to Bucky’s painting, made her go next. Y/N didn’t want anyone to look at her, or her work. Didn’t want to have to try and explain why she did what she did. The heart behind her painting wasn’t there anymore.
> 
> “I um love Greek mythology,” Y/N started, words immediately failing her. Flying out of her mind like wisps of smoke, “So I chose to use Aphrodite, goddess of love, as my focus. White doves are symbolic to her.” She stopped, arms crossed and leaned back against the white board. Already finished.
> 
> Everyone stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but when her silence stretched on, they finally focused on her artwork. It felt like needles were pricking at her skin. Too hot all over, and mouth dry as the summer sun.
> 
> The painting had been one of her favorites. A beautiful woman with a flowing dress, arms back holding up the tail end of it like a cape. Serene while she glided forward across the canvas. Then two doves flew right in front of her, together like they’d come directly from her heart. The ends of the dress melted down into a stream of colors and brush strokes near the bottom. Shifting into a galaxy. The doves were mostly white and surrounded by darker colors to help contrast them out.
> 
> When she’d painted it, Y/N had been thinking about love. Not just Bucky. Love in general and how scared she was to fall in love. How fickle Greek gods were, just like emotions, and prone to mistakes in many of the stories. Love and gods were both tricky things. It was fueled with so many of her emotions, all poured out onto a page.
> 
> But now, she didn’t feel anything like before. Nothing but achy longing.

 

“I was just wondering if I could buy it from you. After the show.” Bucky’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she met his eyes, surprised. His sketchbook was propped against his knees, a pallet of paints on the floor to his right. Brush in the cup of water, he swirled it around and wiped it clean on a stray paper towel in a practiced motion. Not even looking down when he did it. Just studying her.

“Buy it?” Y/N asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why would you want to buy it?” Iron Man played in the background, the sound of him working on his first finished suit filled up the apartment. She set aside her bird, a lost cause, to dry. Despite the paintings being awful, she’d have to turn them in Monday. Maybe after it dried, she could clean it up some.

Bucky’s mouth curved into a teasing smile, setting aside his brush, “Cause it’s awesome? And I want to hang it up?” He asked slowly in return, like he was spelling it out to a child. Elbows propped on his knees, he pushed aside his own sketchbook. From where she sat, it looked like he was painting one of his original sketches of her. From her apartment. One of the poses where she sat in her recliner, reading.

Once again, he made her beautiful. Y/N could tell that much, even from where she sat.

Blinking, she shook her head, a bit reluctant to the idea of him paying her. Especially for that piece. Which had revolved around him so tightly. Tense, she sat up straighter and rinsed out her brush. The water was just a tint away from scarlet now, “Mn I guess so, but you don’t have to buy it. You can just have it.” Water dripped dark splotches from the brush onto her jeans before she wrapped it in a stained paper towel and dried it off. Dried paint coated under her nails, and fingertips. Coating them crimson.

Immediately, Bucky scowled at her, “No, I’m going to pay you for it. I personally know how many hours you spent on that. I’m not just going to take it from you.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, sweater rolled up to his elbows, and scratched at his jaw. There was a smudge of paint across his scruffy cheek.

Flustered, Y/N stood up with her pallet of colors and cup of dirty water. Stepping around the couch, her socked feet slid just a bit against the smooth floor, “I don’t really know what to price it at.” She stopped at his sink, picking up a few dirty breakfast dishes, and setting them out of the way. Then she started rinsing off her supplies. Water cold against her skin, but slowly warming as it ran. Soft scarlet, black, white, and green paint swirled against the silver sink, and away with the water. Fingers against the pallet she scrubbed the dried paint off, and then picked as much of the paint out from under her nails as she could.

She figured once she was cleaned up, it’d be close enough to 7 to justify her leaving. AKA bolting. Bucky followed after her with his own dirty pallet and water, “I was thinking about 100. Maybe more depending on what you’re offered at the art show.”

Sputtering, she sat aside her pallet to dry and finally meet his eyes. He was suddenly close, and she had to take a calming breath. Or else her heart might stop beating, “That’s a little much don’t you think?” He was standing at her left and tilted the faucet towards himself, so he could rinse his own materials. Arm brushing hers, she got to feel that his sweater was softer than it looked.

Bucky shook his head, and she stepped aside so he could better use the sink, “No, I bet if you price it at 100 someone will buy it.” She wiped her damp hands on a brown kitchen towel.

“Someone crazy.” Y/N grumbled, but then shrugged, “I’ll make sure Ramsey puts a ‘sold’ sticker on it for you. You don’t have to pay me till you get it, though.” There wasn’t any good reason to justify her not letting him have it. If she was being honest, she didn’t really want to keep it. It just reminded her of dark thoughts that she didn’t need to dwell on.

Bucky nodded, and glanced up. It looked like he was about to say something else, but then he frowned, “It’s really coming down out there.” His eyes were over her shoulder, focused on something across the room. Hands dripping water, he turned off the faucet and placed his supplies next to her own and dried his hands on his jeans.

Y/N turned, following his line of sight towards the window. Her heart dropped into a pit, and she quickly paced around the counter, bundling her cold fingers against the hem of her shirt. Crossing the living room, she peered out the window over his desk. It was a blanket of white outside. No cars passed through the road, and the ones parked along the side were nothing more than little white hills. Barley distinguishable. Part of her, the artistic part, wanted to draw it. Try to capture the shining white crystals contrasted with the stark grey of the buildings. Splashes of cover peeking out, about to disappear under a blanket of freshly falling snow. But that part of her was background noise to the roaring anxiety that made her grit of teeth.

 “Shit.” She groaned, racking a hand through her hair. Hadn’t even noticed that it was snowing so hard because she was too busy not looking anywhere but at her artwork. It was quiet too. That sort of peaceful silence that came from the snow dulling out noises.

Back over at the couch, she picked her phone off the cushion and sat down to investigate. Darcy had messaged her, sending a selfie of her snuggled up with a cup of something steaming, and the caption ‘Snow days rock!’. A little later after that, Peter had let her know that he was super bummed because Mr. Stark made him leave work early.

Her weather app had issued a ‘winter weather warning’. High freezing winds, lots of snow, and lots of ice. Y/N carefully shut her sketchbook, the paint barely dry but she didn’t have the time too care. Then began gathering up her stuff, “I better get going. Before the roads get any worse.” Before she got stuck there. Hastily, she unzipped her bag and stuffed everything back inside. Then hurried to the kitchen, snatching her damp pallet off the counter.

Bucky stood by the window, watching it come down, and turned back to look at her, perplexed, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” His arms were crossed, fists fight against his shirt. Lips in a fine line, he kept glancing between her and outside.

Y/N snorted a very thin, awkward laugh, putting her tubes of paint in her bag, “What’s the alternative? Stay here?” Her heart skipped at the thought. It was ridiculous. No, she couldn’t do that. For her sake and his, it would be better if she went home.

“Well ya, I mean, you could.” Bucky shrugged, taking a couple steps away from the window. Arms still crossed, and shoulders tense near his ears. It was obvious he didn’t seem to like the idea either, and that only made her feel worse. Guilty, and uncomfortable.

She shook her head, “No, I can get a cab. They drive in all kinds of weather.” The weather app had said to stay off the roads and inside if at all possible. It was getting dark. Earlier than normal due to the heavy clouds blotting out the sun. But Y/N couldn’t imagine staying the night after this week.

Maybe last week it would have been a fantasy come true. Like in some stupid romcom, but now? After Sunday? It was a fully-grown monster of an awkward, awful idea. Complete with horns and a snake tongue.

At the door, she slipped on her shoes and zipped up her coat. Bucky grabbed her arm just as she was reaching for the doorknob, “Stay.” He stated, quietly, but seriously.

She glanced up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat the formed from being able to smell his cologne, “I can’t.” Y/N was surprised at how vulnerable her voice was. She hadn’t meant to sound like that. It was supposed to be stronger than that. More resolute. Jerking, she pulled her arm from his grip and shook her head again when he opened his mouth to argue. Hand on the doorknob, she opened the door and stepped into the hall. It was even colder now, and the dim lights overhead flickered, buzzing. Even colder without Bucky’s hand on her arm.

Only just making it to the stairs, Bucky caught the strap of her backpack. Y/N whirled around on him, “I can’t stay here.” She repeated, managing to be just a bit firmer this time. Not even flinching, he took another step closer to her. Her hands trembled slightly as anxiety started to pour into her veins, clawing at her head.

Cautiously, Bucky guided her heavy bag down. Taking it off her, and she found herself letting him. The way he stared unwaveringly at her, as if seeing the dark tidepool of emotions behind her eyes, made her face grow hot with bit back tears. He shouldered it, and placed a hand on her arm, “You can.” He took a breath, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts then continued, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you out there.” Bucky squeezed her arm and then stepped away, giving her space back.

“But it’s,” Y/N’s breath hitched, panic making her stomach feel sick. The cold bit at her fingertips and her hands balled into fists. Nervously shaking her head, she tried to swallow all the wrong words and find the right ones to explain herself, “It’ll be so awkward after—”

“It’ll be ok.” Bucky assured, giving a light smile. It reached his eyes, making them shine with tender light, “We’ll just watch movies and have fun. I’ll even make you dinner.” Slowly, he took another step back, edging closer to his apartment door. A hopeful expression making his handsome face soft, and sweet.

It didn’t take much for her resolve to crack. Too exhausted and strung out to even put up a real fight. She let out a shuddering breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding in, “I can take the couch then.” With that, Y/N stepped past him and retreated into his apartment. Taking off her boots again, she cursed the weather. Cursed winter. Cursed her landlord. Cursed everything that led her into this position.

Bucky shook his head, going back into the kitchen. Her bag made a solid thunk against the countertop when he plopped it down, “No way, you can take my bed. It’s fine.” She wanted to argue some more but then he was opening the fridge, changing the subject, “I was thinking tacos?” Bucky offered, and she unzipped her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch.

Leaning against the counter, she watched him pull out a thawed pound of hamburger. Then shrugged, “Works for me. Guess this means you’re finally going to cook for me.” She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips. Every time they were at her house, they usually ordered takeout. There were a few rare times where she made easy stuff. Like hamburgers, mac-n-cheese, or stir-fry. But not all that often. Whenever they first started working together, Bucky never stayed long enough to need food. Once they did start eating together, Y/N didn’t feel like she had enough skill to even try and fix anything for him. It was only recently that she got comfortable enough to try.

“You are a guest, and it is dinner time.” Bucky waved a spatula at her, flicking on his stove. A light blue flame burst to life under the burner. Once the hamburger was in the pan, he used his spatula to divide it into chunks, starting to cook it.

“Anything you want me to do?” She asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, why don’t you go finish the movie? I’ve got it.” He waved his free hand towards the living room. Then he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, rummaging through some of his cupboards near the stove.

Nodding, Y/N left him in peace. Somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to try and carry conversation. It was getting easier to ignore. The awkwardness fading back just a bit, but it still couldn’t be considered comfortable.                                              

 

 

 

After dinner, which was delicious, Bucky disappeared with their plates. Y/N relaxed down into the couch, pleasantly full, and continued watching the Incredible Hulk. Since she was staying the night, they might actually make a dent in the Marvel franchise.

Bucky returned with a bottle of scotch and two glasses with ice. He set them down on the table in front of her and she eyed him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He snorted, lifting the amber and black bottle closer for her to see, “Just thought you might want a drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asked skeptically but didn’t deny it. She wasn’t much of an alcohol person, even less of a scotch person, but a buzz did sound tempting. Y/N was a happy drunk. The giggly kind, and she liked how it made her feel. As long as she didn’t get too sad. If she got too emotional, then it didn’t go well.

Bucky poured himself a glass, and tipped the bottle towards her own, waiting for the go ahead. Huffing a sigh, she waved her hand towards him. He smirked and filled up her glass, “I don’t want you to get drunk. We’ve just never drank together. Thought it might be fun. A buzz and Marvel movies could be a good mix.” Then he screwed the lid shut and sat the bottle on the table, taking up his drink. Fluidly, Bucky moved back over to his seat on the beanbag, dropping down heavily. Not spilling a single drop.

She picked up her glass, stirring the ice with her finger to try and thin out some of the scotch, “Never been to your apartment either.” She quietly mused, crossing her legs up under her thighs. His apartment ran warmer than her own, but her feet were chilly even in her socks.

“Guess tonight’s just full of firsts.” Bucky agreed, sipping on his drink. They were sitting further apart tonight. Further apart than they had in a while. It made her heart heavy, so she took a drink as well. Bucky didn’t even flinch, and she full on grimaced.

“God it’s awful.” She laughed, shaking her head, lips smacking to chase the flavor away. It made her tongue feel dry and bitter.

Chuckling he took another drink and hummed, “It’s an acquired taste.” His eyes danced with mirth in the dim lighting of the living room, a smirk made his mouth tilt in a sinfully charming sort of way. She had to look away, back down to the melting ice in her glass.

“I think you mean that you drink enough until your tongue goes numb and then it’s not so bad.” Y/N translated, taking another mouthful, and flinching again. It burned all the way down to her stomach. Nose wrinkled, she blinked as her eyes began to water, but she tried to school her expression. Not liking that she could hear Bucky trying to stifle his laughter.

“Try not to let it hit your tongue so much. Come on, haven’t you taken shots before?” Bucky teased, eyes flickering from the TV back over to her. The light made his jaw sharper and caught streaks of his hair, making them almost blue. From her position on the couch, she could still see snow coming down through the window across the room. It glowed like fluttering glitter past the streetlamps. Not slowing at all.

She nodded, focusing back on Bucky, “Ya, some but I always had a chaser.” Her skin was already feeling honey glow warm. A little tingly. It was good scotch. Bucky hummed, the sound of the movie filled up the empty space between them. At least, it was empty if you ignored all the things left unsaid.

Over the next hour, Y/N finished her first glass, and poured herself another. Right alongside Bucky, who refilled his glass a few minutes before her. By then, she could tell she was tipsy. Giggling at some of the terrible humor in the movie, and really at anything at all. Until she found herself watching Bucky more than the movie. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

By the time her body started to feel flickering warm all over, Y/N didn’t have a clue what was happening in the movie anymore. It was nearing the end, and the apartment was faintly lit from the kitchen. Mostly flooded with the light from the TV. It reminded her of their situation a week before, but she didn’t want to think about that. In fact, she wanted to focus on another problem at hand.

Standing up, Y/N felt her head swim just a bit, but she managed to walk perfectly fine. She wasn’t that far gone. Just the kind of buzz that gave a false sense of bravery, and horrible impulse control. Right then, she couldn’t understand why they were sitting so far apart. So, she closed the few short steps between them and plunked herself down on the second beanbag chair next to Bucky’s. His eyes widened, and he stared at her, snorting a laugh when she grinned cheekily at him. Then she wiggled in the seat until she was comfortable and leaned over to let her head rest on his right shoulder. All without saying a single word and took another sip of her half full drink. It didn’t taste bad anymore.

A few beats of silence passed, and she tried to focus back in on the movie, rather than the obvious fluttering of her heart. From her position, she could feel the strong muscle resting just under the sweater. Bucky finally shook his head in disbelief, the beads rustled as he relaxed back into his own chair, and asked, “Comfy?”

Y/N hummed and nodded, nuzzling against his arm because god he smelt good. And damn if he wasn’t cozy and perfect. Her hand curled loosely against his sweater, thumb rubbing the soft material. Knees up on the beanbag, and her body contorted into a small ball.

When she didn’t offer a verbal reply, Bucky didn’t push. Instead, he shifted his arm until it was wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her closer. Head on his chest, Y/N laughed again at the awkward adjusting she had to do to get comfortable again. Shift till she was halfway on his beanbag and hers. Legs stretched out further to balance, and her hand holding her glass rested up on his waist, other tucked underneath her to stay propped up. His arm around her shoulders, and other hand still holding his own scotch on his thigh. But then everything was flawless. And she didn’t want to ever have to move again.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” Y/N asked playfully, fingers rubbing nonsensical circles against her glass. She could feel every breath he took, and faintly hear the beat of his heart under her ear. He was so warm and strong underneath her. It was comforting. The credits of the movie were starting to play, and she loathed the thought of one of them getting up to put in another.

Bucky tensed, but didn’t move. He rubbed his thumb against her bare arm. Sometimes it felt like everything he did was the most natural thing in the world to do. Like their relationship had reached a point where it should have been as easy as breathing. If he would just let it. Then he shrugged, the motion jostled her just a little, “I guess cause it’s not really what friends are supposed to do.” Words mumbled and stilted. Awkward. He wouldn’t look at her when he said that, just stared down at the cup in his hand. Metal contrasting against fragile glass. Both glinting in the harsh light from the TV.

Before he could pull back, she caught his wrist and sat up to meet his eyes. Her hand kept his arm around her shoulders, and she only adjusted herself just enough to look at him properly. Their faces were dangerously close, but she barely noticed, “But we do it, and we’re friends, so it can’t be too bad.” Her voice was soft, insistent. Eyes betraying the sadness welling up deep inside of her. It felt like the burning in her stomach was heading up into her throat. His skin was smooth against her fingers, and his arm was a reassuring weight over her shoulders. Bucky made her feel safe. Even when he was breaking her heart.

Bucky whispered her name like she was squeezing the life from his chest and sighed harshly. His eyes darted away from her own, lips pressed into a fine line, “Ya but it’s wrong, and makes things complicated.” He closed his eyes and tapped his finger against his glass, the sound sharp over the TV. She could already see his walls closing, shutting her out again.

“It doesn’t have to.” Y/N shook her head, clasping his hand tighter to try and keep his attention. His callused fingers were rough against her own, and she could see his chest rising and falling faster. Like he was trying to keep himself calm. Still, she pushed, “If it makes you happy, and me happy, and doesn’t hurt anyone, then why is it so wrong?” She spoke quickly, and her voice was starting to slur just a tad. Like her mouth was running faster than her head. The hand holding her drink gripped it tighter. Condensation making her fingers slick. Head tilted, she tried to make him look at her. Suddenly desperate to make him understand.

At that, Bucky did tug away. Stood up and moved a few steps over to the other side of the coffee table. He picked up the bottle of scotch and refilled his drink. Again. His hands were shaking just a tad, and he slowly put the lid back on and sat the bottle down. Then he waved his glass in the air as he tried to explain, nearly sloshing it over the edge, “Because it can’t happen. And that—” He jabbed a finger at the beanbag chair he just vacated, like it was an example, “Will lead to things happening, and nothing can happen between us.” He pointed between the two of them, face flushed, and took another drink. Eyes sharp and glistening, his hair fell across his forehead as he swallowed. Then he carded his fingers roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He sounded so sure. So stubborn and it just pissed her off.

“Does this make you happy?” Y/N stressed, gesturing between them. She stood up too, stumbling a little when her feet caught on air. Still, she steadied herself, head high, and finished her drink. When he didn’t respond, she sat her empty glass down on the coffee table a bit harder than necessary. It echoed over the music filling up the room with background noise. When had they started arguing?

Frustrated, Bucky groaned and turned so he wasn’t facing her. He shifted his glass to his right hand, knuckles white. Delaying time, he swallowed another mouthful, quiet. His shoulders were tight, the muscles rolling as he clenched his fist. When he glanced back at her, his face was blank again.

Seeing his emotional barricades up again made irritation burn the back of her throat like hot coals.

A whine caught in her chest, and she shut her eyes tight. The anger melted into something darker. Something harder to swallow that had her arms wrapping around herself, and made her shift awkwardly from foot to foot, “Don’t I?” Her tone dropped at his silence, vulnerable and nearly drowned out by the end credits music. Hurt at him shutting down again. Shutting her out again, “Make you happy?” Y/N clarified. Emotions switching on a dime as she stared at his broad back.

The TV cut out to the title page, and he turned, snatching the remote off the table and flicked it off. Then tossed it back onto the table, only for it to clash and skitter off the edge onto the floor. Shadows clung to the room, only pushed back by the small light from the kitchen and window behind her. Then silence pressed in on the room and highlighted all the words not being spoken. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, Y/N tried to keep her breathing even and to stay quiet. Let him boil in whatever emotions were making him pace between the couch and wall.

In the cluttered space of his apartment, she felt small because he took up so much of it. When he got like this, she could see the soldier. Could see everything he tried to keep in control burning just beneath the surface. All the things he tried to never say. The panels of his left hand hummed and shifted, flexing into a fist and relaxing again when he finally stood still.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he brought up his hand to rub at his face, messing up his hair. When he glanced back at her, he grimaced, and exclaimed, “Of course you do!” His eyes were shining bright in the dark, glimmering with bit back pain. Eyebrows pinched and jaw tight, like he was fighting to keep everything in check. Even every perfectly measured breath he took.

“Just not enough?” Y/N asked, still soft and stepped closer. She reached down for the bottle, eyes never falling from his cooled expression, body swaying in a fluid motion as she stood back up. Bucky silently watched her as she unscrewed the top and watched him. Forgoing a glass, she took a drink from it. The edges of the cap bit at her fingers. Desperate to feel anything but what she was feeling right then. Maybe it’d numb her the rest of the way out. Make her pass out, or black out to a point where things just didn’t hurt anymore. With the way things were going it might be nice.

It’d be a blessing. Even for a minute.

“It’s not like that.” Bucky denied, words cracking in his throat at the end. Y/N edged just a bit closer, until they were chest to chest. The bottle brushed against his thigh where she let it swing at her side. She had to stare up to meet his eyes. He finished the last drink from his glass, then stooped to sit his down too. Every movement tickled the air around him and made her skin tingle from how close they were. His shoulder brushed her hip when he straightened back up. Then his hand cupped over her own and he took the bottle from her loose fingers. Forging his glass as well. His touch still burned. He didn’t offer to clarify what he meant. That it ‘wasn’t like that’ didn’t explain much of anything.

Instead of rounding another pointless circle with him, Y/N asked, “Why do you want my painting?” She crossed her empty arms, rocking back on her heels, but not moving from her stubborn position in front of him. Not yielding again. The scotch made her stupid brave, and she was cracking up. The façade she tried to keep up falling apart piece by piece. Part of her understood that this conversation would lead to nowhere good.

That she was tearing everything apart. Messing everything up. Spilling all their rotting issues out between them. Ripping up her heart for him to see as she desperately tried to understand his. But she couldn’t bring herself to shut up again. Too angry and hurt and frustrated and tired.

This had been a bad idea from the start. She should have just stayed in bed this morning.

That jarred him a bit. Bucky snorted incredulously, “Because it’s beautiful, and I love your work.” His full lips wrapped around the bottle and he took a swig. Rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a slow breath. Disheveled, he dropped the bottle back on the table, almost spilling it. The cap still bit at her thumb where she pressed at it. Flipped it around between her fingers. Something to fidget with.

“Do you know why I painted it?” Y/N continued, licking her lips, mouth full of cotton. She rocked back forward, nearly toppling into him, but he caught her shoulders. Steadying her and almost smiling, but it died before it could reach his eyes. Her hands came up to balance herself and she dropped the cap to the floor. It clattered, but neither of them bothered to try and pick it up, “Why I picked the subject?” Her fingers curled against his chest, enjoying the touch and slow to pull back.

Bucky shrugged, shaking his head, hands running down her arms to her elbows before he released her, “You were pretty cryptic about it in class.” He took a half step back, but she caught the hem of his shirt, and stubbornly held onto it. Stopping, he glanced down at her hand, but didn’t force her to let go.

Willing her fuzzy mind to focus, she explained, “It’s about love.” She pressed a free hand to her chest, hysterical laughter bubbling from her as she continued, “It’s basically my heart poured on a canvas.” Y/N tugged at his sweater, voice cracking at the end. Jaw clenched like she could keep her words from shaking, she stepped forward challengingly, “Still want it?” Her bottom lip trembled, but she kept her head high and proud.

Bucky’s voice dropped and sounded rough like gravel when he replied, “Of course.” His eyes held her own, and she ground her teeth, exasperated. Nearly stepped on his toes when she let go of his shirt and threw up her hands, catching her fingers in her hair, yanking roughly.

“I was thinking about you.” Y/N whispered, flinging her hand in his direction, nearly hitting him, “Not just you, but enough. Doesn’t that bother you?” Bucky was quiet, so she continued, shaking her head as the words tumbled out, “It’s about how scared I am. To care about you this much. About how messed up these feelings are, and how happy I was.” The tears were coming now. All the ones she never wanted him to see. They caught in a knot in her throat, making her words thick. Her cheeks were wet, and she didn’t know when she started crying, “And I couldn’t explain it in class because I don’t feel that way anymore. It just hurts.” Her hand curled in the front of her shirt and she clawed at it, like maybe she could just dig out her beating heart and give that to him too, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, but I don’t know what to—”

The words were stolen from her lips. Immediately forgotten. Taken the moment she felt his breath against her mouth, and then nothing but soft warmth. His hands caught her wrists from where she’d been wildly gesturing, and he stilled her. Cold metal and warmth contrasting against her skin. He tugged her forward, arms caught between their chests, and his hair tickled her cheek when he stooped down. So much taller than her that he had to duck his head.

Bucky was kissing her.

Y/N’s eyes fell closed, and her lips parted against his. Everything floated still around her. His hand released her wrist, and cold metal cupped her cheek. Confused, she pushed her hands against his chest, pulling back just an inch, “Why? What—” Then he tilted his head and kissed her again. His teeth nipped her bottom lip and he crowded against her. A soft groan caught in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes to be closer. Questions buzzed through her head, but her world was spinning too fast. Everything suddenly felt warm and happy with him anchoring her to the apartment floor. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine to trying to ask him again. Not while he was finally kissing her.

Bucky shuddered when her tongue brushed his top lip, and his fingers curled gently in her hair. Leaving her no room to move away again. For just a second, he broke the kiss, and let his hands rest against her shoulders, thumbs brushing across her neck. He kissed her forehead, and then her cheek, tongue lightly brushing against the tears still damp on her skin. A soft bubbling giggle left her. Relief mixed with euphoria and disbelief left her insides sparkling like liquid gold.

Nearly floating, Y/N fisted her hands in the back of his shirt against his shoulders. Then took a step back, making him follow her. Still bent over but his hands came to rest against her hips. A tender smile spread across Bucky’s lips while a grin made her beam back at him. Every step she took he matched. Never more than an inch apart. A breath of laughter escaped him when she stumbled, nearly taking him down with her.

When she sat on the couch, he pressed her back until he was hovering over her and kissed her again. It’d been a long while since she had a make-out session like a desperate teenager, but everything fell into place with him. It wasn’t hard to remember why she loved kissing.

Not when she was kissing Bucky.


	10. Ocean Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to thank you guys for all the support this story has been getting <3  
> Can't believe I'm at 10 chapters! Didn't think I'd make it this far honestly lol but your comments are getting me there!  
> I've actually got this thing planned out so strap in cause Bucky and Y/N are not out of the woods yet. Things are coming lol
> 
> Enjoy~

The weight of his body pressed her down into the worn cushions of the couch. His tongue brushed against her own and Y/N could taste scotch on his breath. Left hand cool against her cheek, his fingers curled around her hair, tugging softly. But his right trailed a burning path down her shoulder and side, gripping her hip and guiding her thigh up to better slot his body against her on the narrow couch. Every movement felt too hot for her to handle. Every kiss sent too many sensations through her nerves. Making her feel high.

Desperate, she cupped his jaw, and rocked herself up. Bucky’s knee pressed against the center of her thighs. Then he balanced over her right leg, while he held her left against his hip. The fluid motion of her pushing up made him groan into her mouth. A deep sound that reverberated through her heart. Hands exploring down, she felt the hard expanse of his broad chest and tight abs under the sweater. It felt like she could barely breathe, impatient for every touch and kiss. Every want she’d ever had for him was surging forward in wave after wave of fiery lust.

Y/N’s fingers slipped under the hem of Bucky’s shirt, finally touching his bare skin how she’d wanted to for a long time. She felt up his strong back, the taunt muscles underneath rolled against her hands. Soft ridges of scars she’d noticed but never commented on brushed under her fingers. Bucky had scars everywhere. Some pale, and thin, others like his shoulder, thick and twisted. She’d never seen them for long, or up close. He only ever posed in as little as tank tops for her, but she’d noticed. Scars from war. Proof he’d witnessed horrors she couldn’t even imagine.

Now she could feel them, and she wanted to kiss every single one. Kiss away the pain and memories. He broke away and nipped her jaw, only to lick away the small hurt. Y/N tilted her chin up to give him better access. Bucky’s breath tickled her ear, voice thick and focusing her scattered thoughts back to him, “Not here.” He whispered, his hand came back up and brushed her hair from her forehead. The touch was so tender it made her heart ache, “You’re killing me doll.” Bucky let out a breathy laugh.

Quietly giggling, she brought her hands around, still under his shirt, and let her nails scrape down his toned sides, “Am I now?” She cocked her head to the side, smirking. Something hard pressed against her thigh, and her insides melted at feeling exactly how much she was killing him. He shivered at the touch, and she felt down his chest, hooking her fingers in the hem of his jeans, tugging his hips closer. His eyes were shining like jewels plucked from the sea. Bright and brimming with life.

Bucky’s head fell forward, and he kissed her hard. Teeth grazing her bottom lip, her tongue slid against his and he stroked her jaw with his thumb. The calluses of his palm rough against her neck. She wanted to feel those calluses against every part of her skin. Then he pulled back again, “We should get some sleep.” Each word was bit out, like he had to force them. But he sat up a bit straight, shoving back his dark disheveled hair. The shadows of the room clung to his body, making him fuzzy in the dark. Lit up from behind by the kitchen.

It amazed her that he was able to think of sleep right now. Swirling emotions filled up her head, leaving room for nothing but the urge to wrap herself around him and never let go. Frowning, Y/N brought up her hand and dragged her fingertips down his cheek and chest, “I don’t really want to sleep right now.” She pouted, body too alive and aware with curling tendrils of heat.

Without a word, Bucky stood up, catching her hand and guiding her to him. He gently wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders and tugged her into a tight hug, lips brushing the crown of her head. It was a soothing gesture. Made her melt right against him and hug him back around the waist. Just breathing him in. He held her there for a quiet minute. The room a comforting silence. Every so often, his hand stroked through her hair and down her back, then up again. Cheek pressed to his chest, she could see that it’d finally stopped snowing outside. The world was quiet and yellow light from the street lamp stretched across his desk, spilling to the floor.

“Come on.” He whispered, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he slowly stepped back and started walking with her past the kitchen. The weight of his arm guided her to follow him, a little reluctantly.

Still unbalanced on her feet, her socks slid against the wood floor. Y/N kept her arm around his waist for support. Fingers curling through his beltloop. He flicked on a hall light and it momentarily blinded her, making her hiss in pain. But he immediately opened the first door on the left side of the hall. A buzz still filled her head, leaving her only able to slightly appreciate his room. Distantly, she heard him explain where the bathroom was. That if she needed anything, all she had to do was call.

Then Y/N found herself sitting on the bed and he’d left for a minute. The bedside lamp glowed to her right and she fell back onto his mattress. Limbs sprawling out across the endless comforter, she sighed. It smelt like him and her chest squeezed sweetly at the realization. When she finally looked up, she spotted Bucky in the doorway, propped against the frame. Watching her, he had a fond smile turning up the corners of his mouth and a bottle of water in his hands.

A coy grin made her lips tilt up, and she held up her hand, stretching out on the bed. Bucky chuckled and slowly came over to her, offering her the bottle. Y/N ignored it and grabbed his wrist, tugging him down harder than probably necessary. Bucky squawked and caught himself on top of her, hands on either side of her head. Still smiling, she kissed him before he could protest.

Bucky kept the kiss soft and slow despite her wanting more. Just feeling her with his mouth while his hand ran up her arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Smoothly, he caught her hand against his cheek and broke the kiss, “You’re impossible.” He whispered without any real heat behind his words. She giggled. Eyes lit up from within, he stared down at her and tried to give her a serious expression. It didn’t register, and she shook her head when he raised his eyebrows at her.

“And you’re irresistible.” She snorted, stumbling over the last word and laughing harder because of it. Their bodies were so close like this. A sliver of space between them from Bucky keeping himself up. All she wanted to do was remove those few inches and experience what it would feel like to have nothing between them but skin. But he didn’t seem to get that.

Amusement danced across his features, and Bucky smiled more, “Oh? Am I now?” Nodding, she tugged at his shirt with her free hand, which he also caught. Cupping both of her hands in his, he kissed her knuckles and then stood up before she could blink, “We can talk more about that tomorrow ok?”

Pouting still, Y/N allowed him to guide her under the covers with very minimal fuss. Even drank some of the water he’d brought her with a little coaxing. When he turned out the bedside lamp, she curled up with his pillow and yawned. Finally feeling sleepy. Bucky leaned down and kissed the top of her head. A content hum left her, and she whispered, already starting to doze, “I like you. A lot.” She yawned again, eyes closed, “I hope… you like me too…”

It was quiet for a while, but then she heard, drifting in the space in between sleep and reality, “I do sweetheart.”

 

 

It was easy to sleep in his bed. Exhaustion charmed her into a darkness so deep that she didn’t even dream.

But sometime during the night, something pulled her from her dreamless sleep. Blinking, Y/N groaned and froze. It took her a minute to remember where she was. The bedside clock told her it was sometime around 3 in the morning. Temples throbbing, she picked up the bottle of water off the table and sat halfway up, taking a drink. Nearly drank the entire bottle while she tried to figure out what had woken her up. The blankets whispered around her as she crossed her legs and glanced wearily around the dark room.

Then she heard it. A pained groan, and incoherent words that rose up into a yell. Heart pounding, she wondered if Bucky was hurt. If someone had broken in. The cry rose up into a shout, then dead silence. Worried, Y/N threw back the blankets and stumbled out of bed, only to stiffen. From her cracked door, faint light poured in. Then Bucky passed her room, quiet in his hurry. The bathroom door quietly opened and clicked shut. Water hissed, and she sank back on the edge of the bed.

A nightmare. He’d had a nightmare. Or, worse, a night terror. It suddenly made sense why he never wanted to stay the night or vise-versa.

Feeling like a snoop, Y/N forced down her curiosity and made herself curl back up in the bed.

If Bucky hesitated at the threshold of her door, making sure he didn’t wake her, she didn’t let him know otherwise. Afraid that he might be embarrassed.

 

 

When Y/N woke up again, she had to blink away tears from the bright morning light streaming in through the window. Half a conversation filtered in from the kitchen, and it took her a minute to recognize Bucky’s voice. He was talking to someone. The smell of coffee coaxed her out of the bed. She was still in her clothes from the day before. Leggings and a baggy flannel that was practically a dress. Tugging her clothes back into place, she carried the water bottle with her, nursing the last of it to hopefully help the headache banging around behind her eyes.

Entering the kitchen, she combed her fingers through her wrecked hair and rubbed at her blurry eyes. Bucky was standing over by his desk, sorting through some papers with his phone caught between his ear and shoulder. Sunlight streamed in through the window, highlighting the little grin stretching across his features. He had traded his jeans for sweats and his sweater for a snug hoodie. She noticed a half-folded basket of laundry next to the couch.

Sitting down some papers, he picked up his mug of coffee. Wisps of steam floated up, caught in the light from the window and he laughed at something the person over the phone said, taking a sip. Not wanting to interrupt, Y/N headed into the kitchen and picked up a clean mug from the dishwasher and fixed herself a cup of coffee. Rooting through his kitchen for what she needed.

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” Bucky paused, and sarcasm dripped from his tongue, “Yes she gave me the time off. No, we won’t.” He huffed, “Tell Stark it’ll be a room for one or I’m not going.” The mild snark in his tone had her smiling a little. It was cute when his feathers got ruffled.

Slowly, Y/N sank down on his couch, and caught his eyes over the brim of her mug. The coffee instantly soothed her hungover nerves. Bucky smiled sheepishly at her, pointing at the phone and mouthing ‘Steve’, then held up a finger to just hang on. After she nodded in understanding, her turned back towards the window, scratching at his messy head of hair.

“Look I’ve got to go.” He continued, “No— Well ya she’s up.” Bucky groaned, shifting the phone back against his shoulder so he could rub at his eyes, “Shut up punk. You’ve got no room to talk.” The end of the sentence was muffled by a yawn that he tried to hide behind his metal palm. Part of her wonder whether or not he’d been able to go back to sleep last night.

Lips pressed together, Y/N tried not to laugh at the embarrassed, affectionate tone of his voice. Picking up her forgotten phone off the coffee table, she started flipping through her messages. She nearly choked when she realized it was edging towards 8 and she had work from 8-4, “Fuck!” Y/N cursed but didn’t race to get up. There was no point, considering she’d be late no matter what she did. Guilt ate at her as she imagined her coworker dealing with all the patrons by herself. Biting her bottom lip, she mulled over her options, sipping at her coffee with one hand.

As peaceful silence filled the living room, she noticed Bucky had finally got off the phone. He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, and she asked, scowling, “Why didn’t you wake me up? Don’t you have work too?” Christ her head hurt. And her stomach rolled with barely contained nausea. Even if she tried to go to work, she’d be useless. More of a deadweight in the way than anything else.

Lazily, he tucked his phone into his hoodie pocket and plucked a bottle of aspirin out of his top desk drawer. When she continued to glare at him, Bucky snorted and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, “You haven’t looked outside have you?” When she shook her head, fingers curled around her mug for warmth, he explained, “Almost everywhere’s closed. Power outages, wrecks, and they’ve not even cleared this street well yet. There’s a path but driving’s not a good idea. It’s still snowing some.”

Letting out a breath, she shot her boss a text. Y/N apologized for the late notice, but that she couldn’t make it. Then she tossed her phone onto the coffee table. The events from the night before were still filtering in. Like a badly edited home movie. Chunks and pieces out of order. But she remembered it all. Every embarrassing moment. Anxiety bit at her, whispering oily, self-deprecating words to her. About how desperate she’d made herself out to be, and vulnerable. She shoved them away.

Y/N jerked when he tossed her the bottle of aspirin, barely managing to catch it without spilling anything. She rolled her eyes when he snickered to himself. Then he slowly made his way to the couch. Bucky sank down onto the cushions across from her. He leaned back against the arm rest like her. Taking up most of the couch with his long legs, his feet brushed her own from where she had her knees drawn up, “Guess we’ll have to see if you can get home later tonight.” His hair stuck out in random directions, bangs falling in his baby blues. He curled his toes against the couch, and stated, “Once the roads are clear I can give you a ride home.”

On his motorcycle. Heart beating unevenly at the thought, she nodded, “I’d like that.” Rubbing at her eyes, she yawned, “God my head hurts. You’ve got some killer scotch.” Her stomach twisted with small spurts of nausea and she forced herself to take another drink of coffee. It was a challenge to even keep it down.

Jaw tight, Bucky hummed in agreement, giving an awkward laugh, “Ya it’s pretty strong. I don’t usually drink that much.” He shrugged one shoulder, trailing off. It occurred to her then that his eyes weren’t as warm and light as they’d been the night before. And she hated it.

“Me either.” She agreed. Tension was making the air tight between them and she wanted it to just disappear. Or just break. Cars honked outside, and the heater sputtered to life above her head. Dry warm air brushed across her skin and she pulled her hair over one shoulder. Every part of her felt tight and gross from too much alcohol. Words failing her, she asked, “Do you think I could take a shower? Borrow some clothes?” That wasn’t what she wanted to say.

Quickly nodding, Bucky waved a hand in the direction of the hall behind her, “Ya! The showers weird about the hot water.” His voice drifted in and out of focus, “Either freezing or boiling…” She had to say it. The words were boiling up inside her and they had to talk about last night, “and if anyone flushes upstairs you’ll know—”

“Bucky,” Y/N interrupted. His name came out louder than she’d meant to and he stopped midsentence, eyes flickering with surprise. Nervous, she sat her coffee cup down. Her finger started trembling, so she bunched them up in her lap. She twisted them tensely together where he couldn’t see past her knees. The nausea rose up into her throat, but it was anxiety that made her stomach turn inside out. Anxiety that made her fingers ice and her tongue turn to lead. What had she been thinking last night? This was the worst situation possible.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows, apprehension making his lips press into a fine line. His spine grew tight and he sat up a bit straighter. His feet slid back until he wasn’t touching her at all. It felt like she was floating on a deserted island. A quiet speck in the middle of a hurricane.

“Last night—”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.” Bucky cut in and she thought she might tear up again from frustration. He hurriedly continued, “We were both pretty drunk and…” His words seemed to die in his throat when he took in her expression. Then his eyes fell down towards his lap, his mouth parted like he might say something more, but then closed again.

Cheeks flushed from embarrassment and body flashing between hot and cold, she shook her head, “You kissed me.” It wasn’t a question. More like an accusation and he flinched just slightly at her blatantly bringing it up. Had that just been the alcohol? Pity? Something akin to shame made her flush hot again. Had he just kissed her to make her stop crying?

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at his cup, it clinked when he shifted it to his other hand, “I remember.” He offered. Still only glancing up at her from time to time, jaw set and expression drawn. Walls up and she couldn’t see past the icy calm ocean in his eyes. Blue depths so deep that everything underneath was impossible to make out.

The silence that followed wrapped around her neck and tightened until Y/N thought she might choke on it. But he didn’t say anything else. It was up to her to try, “Do you… I mean.” She blinked, willing the heat in her face to go away, “Do you regret it?” Her voice broke over the word ‘regret’. It tripped in her mouth and she had to swallow the emotions growing thick in her throat. Even breathing felt difficult. Every breath was heavy. Filled with everything but life giving oxygen.

“No—” Bucky looked up quickly and grimaced, the word coming out too loud and harsh in the tender quiet surrounding them, “No.” He repeated, softer, “It’s just…” He turned away again, over towards the wall behind the back of the couch where a mixture of photographs and artwork hung. The fingers of his right hand pressed into the palm of his left, rubbing at the metal. Then moved to stretch his fingers. Y/N wondered if he even noticed. It was the only nervous habit that she’d ever picked up from him. He did it so subtly that she’d only ever noticed after their talk on the stairwell.

When Bucky didn’t find whatever he was searching for behind the couch, he peeked back at her, “I don’t want to mess this up. Mess you up with—” He stuttered and ground his teeth, “With my problems. Like I said, I’m not ready for whatever’s happening here but…” Eyes squeezed shut, he tilted his head back towards the ceiling and let out a quick breath.

Before he could continue, she interjected, “I can’t go back to the way things were.” Y/N stared at him then, meeting his eyes when he glimpsed back at her. His expression a mixture of pain and panic. This was it. Everything needed to be on the table. Sorted out no matter how much it hurt.

Her fingertips were numb with panic, but her hands came up as she tried to explain, “I can’t pretend like I don’t care about you. And I know you care about me too.” That was a bold statement. Part of her mind hissed that she was wrong. Just seeing what she wanted. Fingers tangled in her hair she groaned in frustration and ignored her insecurities. Tried to make him understand, “I don’t know if I can just be your friend. Not after everything.” She let out a shaky breath and paused, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

Bucky took in a breath, and crossed his legs under him, sitting up and resting his elbows on his thighs. He was closer like that. She followed suit and sat forward across from him. Their knees knocked together. He bit his bottom lip and stared up at her with so much hurt written across his face, “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

Something inside her cracked deeper than before. A new spike of pain that had her breath turning shallow. The room felt too small. Too tight with all the emotions clashing to get out of her.

“I think you could.” She whispered hesitantly, a blush burning across her entire body, “I’m happy with you. Just you being yourself is enough.” Y/N messed with a button at the bottom of her shirt, “Couldn’t we just try? I know you think you’re too broken or messed up or whatever for anyone to handle but I want to try. I’d like to think I know you pretty well.” Her lips lifted in a watery smile, “If you care about me like I care about you. Even a little… don’t you think it’s worth to just try?”

Y/N wanted to touch him. To take his metal hand and help ease whatever phantom pain was making him grimace like that. Expressing her emotions was so hard when her tongue felt so clumsy. She wanted to show him. But she didn’t have the courage to try. To open herself up for anymore rejection.

The wordless quiet that followed her tentative words made her look away from him. Too bare and vulnerable to handle his heavy gaze. His expression was thoughtful and still so pained. Like she was ripping him apart inside, but it was only fair. Considering what he was doing to her in return.

Finally, Bucky stood up and she peeked up at him in surprise. Hurt flashing through her with every irregular beat of her heart. He was holding his coffee cup and picked her own up, looking down at her in return, “Ok.” He sighed, and she blinked in confusion.

“Ok?” Y/N asked, tracking him with wide eyes as he headed soundlessly into the kitchen. Frowning, she turned on the couch, hands gripping the armrest tightly. His back was straight, and his steps were relaxed again. Like something heavy had evaporated away.

“Ok.” He repeated, then asked, sitting their cups on the counter, “How do you take your coffee again?” Bucky peered over at her, eyebrows raised in question.

After she told him, Y/N unraveled herself from the couch and padded into the kitchen, pulse pounding in her ears like roaring waves, “So… you want to try?” She asked, needing to hear him say it. Specifically, what he wanted. The coffeepot clinked as he picked it up and filled their cups quietly. He put the pot away before he turned back to her.

Bucky handed her back her cup, the steam curling around her cheeks. Then he leaned back against the counter opposite her, shrugging lightly. She rounded the counter, stepping closer to him with wide eyes. He sipped at his drink, speaking over the brim “The way I see it, we can either give this a try.” He gestured between them, “Whatever it is, and let it run its course. For however long it lasts.” Bucky licked his lips, crossing his ankles in front of him, “Or, we can try to go back to being friends, but you’re right, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to go back to just like before.”

A toothy smile had her cheeks hurting, “Can’t exactly put it back in Pandora’s box.” She agreed, and when he scowled at her, she chuckled. Relief sent shocks of happiness through every bone in her body. Right down to her toes. It felt like she might be glowing with carefully restrained excitement. Much to her delight, light seemed to flicker back inside of his eyes too.

“Nerd.” Bucky groused, but it was with so much fondness that the insult didn’t even phase her, “But no. I’d probably lose you if we tried to just be friends.” The last admission was softer and made her heart twist. He gave her a small smile, “And I really don’t want that to happen.”

 “Me either. And even if this doesn’t work out, you won’t lose me.” It was a promise that would be difficult to follow through with, but she had faith in her ability to keep it. Bucky gave her a knowing look in response to her declaration. Half believing and half grateful for her words. The beat of silence that followed was more comfortable than before. It was easier for her to take a refreshing breath and enjoy the warmth that flowed through her with every swallow of the coffee. It chased away the last of her hangover. After a couple minutes of sharing shy glances with him and smiling way too much, Y/N asked, “So, wanna go on a date?”

Bucky snorted into his coffee, nearly spilling it, and started coughing and laughing. A flush entered his cheeks and he held a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the laughter. When she gaped at him in surprise, he only laughed harder. The sound filled up his apartment and wrapped around her like a comforting summer wind. Lifted her soul and made her snort incredulously.

When his laughter started to fall into snickers, she asked, “What?” Then shook her head in confusion when he didn’t respond. Part of her wanted to be offended that he was obviously laughing at her expense, but it felt so good to hear him laugh like that again. A rare, full body laugh that left his face so much younger. Like he might be the age he was supposed to be.

After a couple aborted attempts to still his laughter and explain, Bucky finally got out, “Sorry! Sorry it’s really not that funny.” He shook his head and leaned further back against the counter, “It’s just… been a while since a girl asked me on a date. Wasn’t I supposed to do that?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly, his posture more relaxed than she’d seen in a while. Slouched with his arms crossed in front of him, mug held loosely in his hand. And his eyes shone with warmth. Tenderness just for her.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many people ever got to see that expression. It was something smoldering but with a level of fondness to soften the edges with warmth. She never wanted him to stop looking at her like that.

Smirking, Y/N shook her head, toes curling against the linoleum floor, “Just trying to bring you into the 21st century. Where it’s perfectly normal for strong independent women to ask cute boys out on dates for a change.” She shrugged, shyly watching him and hiding her growing smile behind her cup.

Bucky tracked her every movement and he finished off his coffee, sitting it in the sink, “You think I’m cute?” He lifted himself up to sit on the counter, right beside the sink. Rhythmically, his heels knocked against the cupboards beneath him.

It took her a second to answer. The way the faint morning light caught along his half smile did funny things to her heart. Delaying her response, she drank the last of her own coffee and crossed the small kitchen to put her mug in the sink along with his. When she caught him still patiently waiting for a response, she rolled her eyes and sighed, like he was a pain, “You’re the cutest.”

Amused, Bucky huffed a laugh, “Just cute?” She shook her head but didn’t offer up another compliment, so he continued, “Hope you know I’m taking you out. Like a gentleman.” He tucked his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. Over the top confidence laced every word.

Raising her eyebrows, she let her hip rest against the counter next to him. He was already tall, but now she had to really look up to meet his eyes, “Oh?” Y/N asked, heart skipping when she noticed his eyes had drifted to her mouth. They only lingered a second before his gaze darted away, but she felt acute longing strike through her.

“Leave it to me doll. I’ll make sure you have a good time.” He stated, determination radiating off him, but then he leaned down closer to her, voice dropping as a wicked smile made his face light up deviously, “It’ll be the best date you’ve ever had.” Not a fiber in her doubted that, but still, she wouldn’t let him know.

Arms crossed, Y/N tried to keep her tone light even though it was hard for her to focus when he smirked at her like that, “I think you’re a smidge to cocky sir. Are you sure you can impress me?” She was standing close enough that her arm brushed his thigh, and he was leaning close enough that they could kiss.  

Coffee hung to his breath and he dipped even closer, “I know I can.” The confidence in his words and the way each syllable sent sparks to her core had her involuntarily shivering. Their eyes held as the silence fell and she wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to kiss her.

Despite being buzzed at the time, she could remember the way his body had felt against her own. The way that his mouth had tasted, and she wanted to experience it again. But she couldn’t make herself stand up on her tiptoes to close the space. So, she waited, biting her bottom lip and watching as his eyes flickered down.

After a couple seconds, she found herself whispering in the quiet of the morning, “Gonna tell me where you plan to take me?” Her eyes lingered on the taunting shape of his mouth and watched as his lips parted to speak.

Bucky’s hand came up and he touched her cheek, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “You’ll have to wait and see.” He swallowed, and she could hear the click of his throat, “Free next weekend?” He continued, voice as breathless as her own. The tension that filled the air now was different than before. Her body was aware of every move he made. Every breath he took.

“Completely…” She replied, barely registering her own response. Too focused on leaning into his touch as he cupped her jaw. Agonizingly slow, his thumb trailed down her cheek. Then brushed across her bottom lip. The intensity of his stare made her feel like she was burning alive. Instinctively, her tongue darted out to wet her mouth and she tasted the pad of his thumb. Bucky froze and stroked his thumb across her parted lips again, the calluses scraping against the tip of her tongue.

If something didn’t give soon, Y/N thought she might die from desire alone. His sharp blues were stormy as his touch moved off her lip, and down her chin. Guiding her face up, his hair tickled her cheekbone as he tilted to meet her. So high above her, she lifted onto her tiptoes, hands propped up on his knee. Slowly, his lips brushed against the corner of her mouth.

It was easy to imagine herself becoming dependent on this. Bucky was building a hunger inside her. Filling up a dark void that she hadn’t been aware that she had. In the quiet winter morning, a chill seeped up through her socks from the cold floor, but her entire body was burning.

After another breath, Bucky’s lips parted and finally met her own in a tentative kiss. Just a sweet pressure against her mouth, but it meant absolutely everything. The way his lips slowly moved against her own was so tender and gentle that she was thought she might float away. Like she was a kite, but his warm hand cradling her face was a string, keeping her grounded.

This felt like the first kiss he would have given her. The one they should have shared if everything wasn’t so complicated.

Then an obnoxious growl shot into the air, making Bucky laugh against her. She snorted, instantly hiding her face in her hands as he sat back up, “Oh god…” She groaned in sheer mortification. Her stomach clenched with hunger, threatening to growl again.

“Hungry?” He asked, his hand came up to gently pry away her own. When she didn’t respond, he lightly squeezed, making her look up at him. A sweet smile greeted her, and she snorted another nervous laugh.

“Maybe a little.” She admitted, begrudgingly. Slowly, he slid off the counter, and she stepped aside so he could make his way to the fridge. Her hands released his own and she crossed her arms.

Bucky sighed, quietly laughing again when her stomach voiced its opinion a second time, “Why don’t you take a shower while I make breakfast?” Unable to help it, she watched him with a fond smile. He pulled out a pack of cheese and bacon, sitting it on the counter. When he noticed her watching, he squinted at her over his shoulder, “What?” He held the door open, a carton of eggs in his hand.

Jostling herself out of it, she took a few steps from the kitchen, “Nothing.” Y/N sighed, pausing at the mouth of the hallway, “I just think I could get used to you cooking for me is all.” If he kept it up, she’d get so lazy that she’d never want to cook for herself again.

Bucky snorted, “Guess it’s a good thing I like doing it.” He knocked the door closed with his hip and opened the dishwasher, letting the dishes clang as he started gathering them out. He placed a pan on the stove, already engrossed in his mission.

“It’s perfect.” Y/N agreed, disappearing down the hall. What she wanted to say was that he was perfect, but it was too soon for that. Too soon for a lot of the happy thoughts that floated to her as she headed down the hall. Every thought she’d ever banned herself from thinking about the man making her breakfast started to sprout up inside her skull.

Hand on the cold doorknob of the bathroom, she paused. It suddenly occurred to her that Bucky hadn’t touched her with his metal hand during that entire interaction. Hadn’t since Sunday, after she’d held both his hands and he had broken her heart. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a coincidence or if he was intentionally avoiding touching her with it.

And if it was intentional, she didn’t know what to do about it.

From back down the hall, she could hear him quietly humming to himself. It was a soft, happy melody that made her heart melt.

Later. She’d worry about that later. For now, Y/N wanted to not worry about a single thing.  
For another moment, she listened Bucky hum. The sound of sizzling grease pipped up underneath his voice like a backdrop.

Then she opened the bathroom door and let it shut behind her. A smile finding its way back to her as she turned on the shower.


	11. Secret Smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't supposed to be a thing.  
> I was halfway through chapter 12 and realized I wanted some things to happen before what I was writing.  
> But this part was too long to shove all in chapter 12...  
> SO here we are.  
> If I can get the editing done in time, I'll still post chapter 12 tomorrow.  
> You'll just have double the fun this weekend lol

Towel in hand, she ruffled it through her damp hair, trying to get out as much water as she could. One of Bucky’s shirts hung loosely down to her hips, over the leggings she’d brought with her. They were clean enough that she didn’t feel the need to steal a pair of his shorts. The dark blue shirt had Coney Island proudly written on the front and felt soft against her flushed skin. Threadbare and loved. Long sleeves hung past her palms, bunched up around her fingers. It smelt like him and a glowing sort of satisfaction filled up the tired parts of her soul.

The rhythmic sound of water dripping from the showerhead drifted to her ears as she hummed quietly to herself. The mirror was fogged over except for the small patch she wiped away. Draping the towel over the rack in his bathroom, she carded her fingers through her hair, shaking it out and messing it up. The ends curled and soaked water into the fabric of her shirt, but it was dry enough. Steam wisped out the door behind her as she walked out into the small hall. Delicious traces of food floated down to her and lead her to the kitchen.

Bucky glanced up from his spot on the couch, flicking through Netflix. A plate of food balanced in his lap and his eyes traced over her before he smiled, “Microwave.” Lazily, he pointed with the remote, and she wordlessly nodded. It took her a second to tear her eyes off him and pad over to the microwave. The floor was cold under her bare feet. Inside, she found an omelet, toast, and bacon. It smelt so good that her mouth instantly started to water.

After getting a fork, Y/N plopped down on the couch beside him and sat a cup of juice in front of her on the table. Squawking in protest, Bucky barely managed to keep from spilling his glass of milk from her bouncing on the couch. Immediately, she dug into the omelet and groaned obscenely at the flavor. Her eyes widened, and she looked over at him in surprise, “Where did you learn to cook like this?” She asked, voice muffled by the food she was still chewing. It was completely unfair.

Sparks of pride made him preen with a self-satisfied little smirk, giving a half shrug, “I had to cook for my sister and dad after mom died. Then for Steve once I moved out cause he’s useless in a kitchen.” He snorted a laugh, flipping the remote between his hands, “And once I started working at Rosalie’s I had to learn some more. Mrs. Rosy wouldn’t have it any other way. The place is small, so almost everyone picks up baking shifts every now and again. After you get her stamp of approval anyway.” Bucky finished off his piece of toast, dusting crumbs off his fingers. Jelly clung to the corner of his mouth and he licked it off when she pointed to it, smirking.

They ate in companionable silence, conversation flowing in and out. As easy as lazy ocean tides. The conversation ranged from her classes, to his job, and some memories of when they were kids and snow days used to be consequence free and fun.

Too full for her own good, Y/N helped him clean up the few dishes. Rinsing as he washed.

Once everything was straightened back up, Bucky started sorting through his collection of videogames. He hummed to himself as he went, prattling off different games that he had and options for them to play. Y/N knew enough to appreciate his expensive console and shelves of various games from all different sorts of genres. They settled on a multiplayer zombie game and Bucky handed her a controller. Within 20 minutes she managed to get him killed, much to his dismay. They were supposed to be on a team, but he took it so seriously that she couldn’t resist tripping him up.

Y/N enjoyed videogames but didn’t have as much time as she would like to play them. A lot of her love came from all the artistic work that went into creating the best games. Every game she ever saw or played, she always broke down what they’d likely done to create such beautiful graphics. Tried to learn what she could to apply to her own art.

“Do you think you could actually survive a zombie apocalypse?” Y/N asked, sitting back in her seat and letting the controller rest in her lap. Her knee knocked against his from where he sat slouched forward on the cushions, elbows on his thighs. It was warm enough in his apartment that she felt comfortable in just his long sleeve shirt. From far off, she could hear the beeping of a snowplow as it worked in the street. Hopefully it would be clear enough for Bucky to still take her home later. The light was shifting to gold from the window, the clouds finally clearing enough for the midday sun to poke through.

Bucky glanced at her from his peripherals then nodded, “Ya, I think I could handle it. Especially if I got to Steve and we partnered up. Just have to get to a secure location with nearby resources.” He cursed and clicked furiously at his controller, managing to clear away a hoard of zombies running after his character. Tongue poked out slightly in concentration, he leaned even further off the edge of the couch, entranced.

An understanding hum left her, and she huffed, “I think I’d die within the first week.” Smashing the buttons of her controller, she tried to beat her way through the group of undead that surrounded her character. Doomed, she held her breath and waited for her health bar to bottom out. Completely tapped of bullets and nothing left but a bat with nails. Blood sprayed all around as she wacked as many as she could in the head. Bucky’s character ran back to her and he shot down most of the hoard, giving her a path to run.

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” He stated, giving her a wicked grin that had her toes curling under her thighs. The smile made his eyes flicker with life and he pointedly shot another zombie about to bite her. Point made, he knocked his shoulder against her own playfully, “See?”

A blush crawled down her neck and she looked away, back to the game where they were entering a worn-down hospital. Part of her mind drifted to the anxious pool filling her stomach. Nothing had really changed since their talk that morning. Aside from the small kiss before her shower, they weren’t doing anything new. Hadn’t kissed, or cuddled, or any of the things she’d thought would happen once that barrier had been brought down.

Gasping, Y/N jerked when a corpse fell from the ceiling. An obvious jump scare and she scowled at Bucky when he cackled at her. Leaning forward, she picked up a piece of popcorn and tossed it at him. He swatted at it, but she managed to bounce it off his forehead. A satisfied smirk filled her lips, until he threw a few pieces back at her in return. Popcorn snagged in her hair and she fished it out and tossed it at his obnoxiously laughing face. Then he caught it in his mouth.

“Ew!” She grimaced, and he just winked at her, turning back to the game. He gathered up a few of the pieces scattered on the couch and just ate those too. Side eyeing him, not trusting him to behave, she tried to pay attention to the creepy hospital. Every so often another jump scare would get her, but she ignored his snickers. As their characters got closer to the next checkpoint, her mind started drifting again.

It wasn’t that she expected him to suddenly turn into a gooey romantic or anything, that just wasn’t him. But part of her worried that she’d cornered him into agreeing to be in a relationship. Because he was afraid of losing her if they stayed just friends. Insecurities stirred in her like a waking monster just under the surface, and she kept shoving them away. It was irrational. Logically she knew that, but the invasive thoughts slithered in anyway.

Especially when he hadn’t even told her how he felt about her. Bucky had never outright said he cared about her more than as a friend. It was always her feelings that got dumped out in front of them like a specimen under a microscope. And now she was looking for any sign to ease the self-doubt coming awake inside her stomach. If she let those feelings take up too much control, it wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

Letting out a slow breath, Y/N asked, “What were you and Steve talking about this morning?” Any conversation to get her out of her head was good conversation. The remote in her hands felt sweaty from her holding it too tightly for too long. Distracted, she wiped her palms on the tops of her thighs.

Bucky didn’t answer right away. His eyes blazed with concentration as he focused on the game. Controller in hand, she picked up her soda can from the table, the condensation cooling her fingers as she took a drink. When he still didn’t reply, she lightly bumped her knee against his, jostling him.

“He just wanted to make sure I was ready for our trip over the New Year.” Bucky supplied. When Y/N raised her eyebrows at him in silent question, he paused the game and set his controller on the table, “Every year we meet up with our friends at Tony’s cabin in California. It’s near the Squaw Valley Ski Resort.” He picked up the actual bowl of popcorn and started munching. Noticing a few crumbs on the couch, Bucky dusted them into the floor.

“Tony has his own cabin?” She asked, mind spinning at how much money that man had to have. It took her a second to realize that he was talking about the billionaire Tony Stark. She wasn’t used to hearing anyone refer to the successor of Stark Industries so casually. Peter would die if he knew that Bucky was so close with Stark that they took vacations together. Probably die instantly from a straight shot of jealousy.

Bucky nodded, licking some of the shining butter off his thumb, “It’s huge too. Usually it’s just the 6 of us for a week. Then everyone else comes up for the big New Years Eve party he throws.” Satisfied, he sat the bowl of side and washed the snack down with a drink of his soda. He wiped the condensation of his sweats, licking his shining lips clean of salt.

Y/N had known that Bucky of course had friends, but her mind spun with questions about the friends he spent a week with every year. She took another drink, tracing a finger down the side of the can as she asked, “So you, Steve, and Tony…” She trailed off, hoping he might fill in the rest.

Bucky sat his drink out of the way and started tapping the names off on his fingers, “Natasha, Bruce, and Clint.” He paused and stretched out his legs, letting a foot rest on the ground while he tucked the other up on the couch, “This year I think Pepper might come for a couple days.”

Of course, she was aware of Pepper, the CEO of Stark Industries and Tony’s fiancé. It only made sense that she was coming. The other names sounded entirely unfamiliar. He’d never mentioned any of them before. Which made her even more curious.

Eyes drifting towards the sky, Bucky hummed in thought, “Clint’s wife only comes for the party. Nobody’s dating anyone new. So that should be it.” He smirked, “Which is a good thing. We’re brutal on new relationships.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side in confusion, “I thought Steve was dating someone?” Her fingers carefully brushed through her drying hair, untangling it as she went. She was pleasantly surprised at how soft his condition had made it.

Bucky shrugged, “Didn’t work out. She broke up with him.” When her expression faded into something empathetic and sad, he explained, “Steve works a lot, and his job always comes first. It’ll take a special girl to put up with his bullheaded work ethic.”

“Is he ok?” She asked, fingers snagging on a tangle. Feet tingling with pins and needles, she stretched her legs out, adjusting a pillow behind her. Bucky’s eyes flickered to her feet, and before she could blink, he situated them in his lap. He was still facing her on the couch, and his right hand lightly brushed the bone of her ankle. Instantly, she felt warm and a shy smile accompanied the soft blush across her features.

Bucky’s eyes dragged over her, and a tiny hint of a smile flickered in his eyes as he studied her in his shirt. Then he cleared his throat, as if to put his own thoughts back on track, “Oh ya. They weren’t together that long. He’s had worse breakups.” He propped his head up on his left arm against the couch, softened by his plush jacket. Eyes far away, he smiled at a memory, “One year, Steve actually brought this girl he had been dating for a few months with him on our trip. By the end of the week, she was seriously questioning his sanity.”

Eyes wide, she had to press her lips together to keep from grinning, “Your friends are really that bad…?” She crossed her arms, watching him with amused curiosity. Her toe poked his thigh, feeling the soft material of his sweats. He flicked her toe and she snorted a laugh, kicking playfully at his hand.

Mischief flickered through his eyes and he smirked, nodding, “Oh ya. Tony’s the worst, but we’re all pretty guilty. Clint convinced her to take a trip down a Black diamond slope. She ended up having to crawl down with Steve’s help.” His eyes drifted to the side in thought, “Nat grilled her on everything you could imagine. Not that she had to, she’d already done her research. Just did it to see if she’d lie.”

“And what did you do?” Y/N asked slowly, suspicious. Bucky gave her an innocent, wide eyed look and pointed at himself. In response, she lightly kicked at his hand and narrowed her eyes. Obviously not believing the façade, he huffed a breath, deflating.

“I didn’t have to do much. The girl was too snotty for him.” Bucky scratched at his messy hair, pushing it off his forehead, “She kept trying to ask me about him. Get to know me since I’m his best guy. I didn’t bother humoring her, and she got ticked off, but kept hiding it from him. I didn’t like how two-faced she was, so I pushed until she showed how she actually felt.”

A beat of silence fell, and she hummed in understanding. It only made sense that Bucky was protective over Steve. And that he wouldn’t take shit from any girls trying to win his best friend’s heart. It made her feel a little warm in her chest.

“Bet Steve wasn’t too happy about it.” Y/N guessed, jerking her foot back when he squeezed her big toe. It tickled. Eyes lit with a suspicious gleam, Bucky shook his head and caught her ankle before she could get too far.

“No, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t talk to any of us for a week, but he got over it. He couldn’t stay mad for long. Not when he knew he’d have done the same thing. Maybe a bit nicer, but he wouldn’t have let me be with a girl like that. Plus, we’d already put Pepper through the ringer a couple years before, and if Clint hadn’t been smart enough to keep his wife away from us, she’d have gotten the same treatment.” Bucky explained, and she marveled at the fact he was telling her all this. It was another part of his life lit up for her to devour, and she absorbed every detail.

A thought flickered to life inside her and she opened her mouth to ask, only to pause. Swiftly, she kicked Bucky’s stomach when he tickled the bottom of her foot again and glared at him in silent warning. Amused, he gave her the most boyishly charming grin and she snorted a small laugh at the expression, “Ass.” She muttered, and he pouted, stroking a hand up her calf. As if to sooth her. The touch had sparks dancing up her thigh.  Heat burned through her leggings where he stroked his thumb across the inside of her knee.

Shaking her head, Y/N finally asked, “Have you ever taken anyone on the trip with you?” She left the question open-ended. Expecting him to at least say he’d taken Becca, but she wondered if he’d ever taken Dot, or some other girl.

Bucky’s gaze lifted back to her own, hand stilling on her leg. A shadow passed over his eyes, making his lips purse, like he’d tasted something unpleasant. After a beat of silence, he finally spoke up, “Becca never wants to go. Says I need to spend more time with my friends, and not have her holding my hand.” The corner of his mouth tilted up just a little at that, and she chuckled quietly. He continued, “And I’ve not been with anyone worth bringing along.”

Fingers clenching nervously under her arms, she found herself saying, “Maybe I can go with you next year.” Smiling, she hoped he didn’t think she was assuming too much. It was obvious that they wouldn’t be together long enough to go away for a week and have him introduce her to all his friends. But Y/N couldn’t help hoping he would be willing to take her with him next year. That they would be together long enough.

When Bucky stared at her knowingly, she blushed. But didn’t bother to try and brush off her statement. To make it anything less than what it was. The heater clicked on overhead, and she heard a dog bark out in the hallway. His eyes drifted back down to his hand on her shin, “I’d like that.” He mused, more to himself than her.

“Bucky?” Y/N asked, swallowing the lump in her throat. He glanced back up at her. Her anxiety twisted a knife in her chest and she couldn’t ignore the words anymore. Didn’t really want to. If whatever they were doing was going to work out, they’d have to talk. Even if he didn’t like it. Her toes curled in his lap and she shifted her cold feet, tucking them under his thighs.

“Ya?” There was a small, nervous look flickering across his expression. Lips in a thin line, his left hand winked in the golden light when he clenched it into a fist on the back of the couch.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she licked her lips and sat up a bit straighter. Feet still buried under his legs, she adjusted her legs. Then wrapped her arms around her knees, loosely hugging them to her chest. Seated like that, they were a lot closer and she sighed, “I just…” She trailed off, trying to sort through her words, “I just want to be sure that we’re going on this date because we both want to.” Her fingers tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, bundling them over her knuckles.

Bucky frowned, eyebrows coming together, and he withdrew his hand, carding his fingers through his hair. He didn’t move to get any distance between them. Barely seemed to notice how cold her toes were, “Of course we are.” When Y/N just kept staring at him, biting her bottom lip, he tacked on, “I do want to.” His words were strong, not a waiver of doubt in them. Dark hair falling in sky blues, he looked like a dream. Just a pretty dream that she could still wake up from.

“You’re not doing it just cause you’re afraid of losing me… right?” The sentence left her quietly, hesitant. Nearly muffled out by her mouth brushing her knee.

Pursing his lips, he shifted his legs until her feet were swept with cool air. Then he brought up his own knees, bracketing her legs between his. Bucky sat up closer, and the fingers of his right hand brushed her cheek, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” The words were tender and more concerned than she’d heard from him before. They were close enough now that she could feel his body heat. Close enough that she could see the individual flecks of green mixed with the blue around his irises.

Words stuck in her throat, she winced and let her chin rest on her knees. Y/N’s eyes flickered away from his, too overwhelmed by the solid line of attention he was giving her, “It’s just that you were so serious about not wanting to date. And you said that you just wanted to be friends. But then you kissed me. And now we are just going to see how this all works out and—” She groaned in frustration, voice rising as the swirling motions inside her just started bursting out, “And I just want to make sure I’m not forcing you into this because I want you to like me like I like you and—”

Bucky’s lips touched her forehead, his chest blocking out the light of the window, and her sentence died all together. Then his lips touched hers, his chin brushing her knee, and his hand squeezed her shoulder, warm even through his shirt. The kiss was soft and washed away the nerves that had been plaguing her heart. A cooling balm for her soul.

Then he pulled back and let out a breath. He smelt like coffee and laundry soap and home. When he gave her a shy smile, she returned it. Bucky squeezed her shoulder one more time before letting go. Before he could pull back, Y/N caught his hand and held it loosely with her own, arm down near her shin. They were both still wrapped up in an awkward ball together. But it felt comfortable. Natural.

“I’m not… good with words.” Bucky started, watching their joined hands. His callused thumb stroking her knuckles, “That’s why I said I don’t know if I can give you what you want.” His teeth worried his bottom lip, “You’re not forcing me into this. Not really.” The statement released something tight inside her stomach, “I didn’t want to be more than friends because I still don’t think I’m ready to make anyone happy. I can barely handle myself.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N whispered, and Bucky tightened his hold on her hand. Even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was apologizing for, it felt like the only thing she could say. Her hair was cold across her back, shirt still drying. The soft current of heat from the ceiling vent felt good across her skin. But the warmth from Bucky felt better.

“Don’t be.” He soothed, when his eyes met hers, she couldn’t tell what emotions were there. Too many conflicting ones to read, “I just…” Bucky’s gaze trailed over to the paused game, jaw tight, “You’ll have to be patient with me. I haven’t been on a date in a long time. I haven’t felt this way in so long.” His left hand pressed to his chest, like he could tug the emotions out from under his ribs.

“What way?” Y/N asked, entirely aware that she was pushing. Selfish in wanting to hear him say it. Needing to hear him spell it out for her. Her thumb stroked along the inside of his wrist, skin surprisingly smooth under her touch.

The look Bucky gave her was an open, vulnerable one. Lips parted like the words were caught on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed and let out a slow breath, “I can’t breathe when you look at me like that.” The confession came out as a whisper, and she interlaced their fingers together. Squeezing tight enough that she worried it might hurt him. He didn’t even flinch, “And I can’t stay away from you. Even if I should.”

"Then don't." She stated simply, resolutely.

When a couple beats of silence passed, she hesitantly added, “Sometimes, you make me so happy that it hurts. Why does it always hurt when you like someone?” She asked, voice gently quiet like his. Every confession that drifted to her ears had her heart beating louder. When his thumb traced a circle around her inner wrist, she wondered if he could feel her pulse racing like a jack rabbit. Bucky’s lips quirked up into an amused smile. Right then, she thought she might drift away. And she’d hate it. Hate to miss any minute of this. If she floated to cloud nine, she might miss future moments like this. And she refused to do that.

“I don’t know.” He replied, and a shy chuckle left him. Ducking his head, his knees knocked into hers when he shifted nervously, “But I think it’s ok to hurt like that sometimes. It means it’s real. And there are worse ways to feel.” Bucky smiled more when she nodded in agreement. The smile turned back time throughout his features and made the perpetual rings under his eyes lighter. Every smile he gave her was a gift, and she etched his expression in her mind. Tried to memorize it so she could draw him later.

A sweet, peaceful silence fell. And Y/N watched him fall into deep thought. It was gradual, and his eyes drifted off as he stared over at his back wall. Sometimes, she tried to imagine what he was thinking about. Bucky seemed to have a lot on his mind a lot of the time. She was ok with him needing moment of introspection, when he got a little lost in his own head.

After a minute, Y/N reached for her controller with her free hand. The action tugged at his hand still in her own when she leaned over. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain, and she flicked it back over her shoulder when she sat back up, “Want to play some more?” She asked, and he seemed to snap out of whatever train of thought he’d been on.

He blinked once, twice, his eyes clearing back up. Then Bucky nodded, and readjusted himself. Seamlessly, they untangled and stretched out their cramped limbs. Eventually, they were both sitting forward towards the TV, controllers in their hands. This time she was closer, and she curled her legs under her, leaning over until her head rested comfortably on his arm.

Y/N could feel his eyes on her, but he didn’t seem to mind. A couple minutes after they started roaming through the torn down hospital again, she felt a soft kiss press to the top of her head.

The sharp pulse of happiness that shot through her had her heart growing too big inside her ribcage. But it was a sweet sort pain. If this was how she would feel every time he did something precious…. She could learn to live with it.


	12. Sunshine Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Might actually manage a schedule...  
> Can't believe I'm almost at 100,000 words. When I started this, I never imagined it'd get this long.  
> But with every comment and kudos, I can't imagine leaving it hanging.  
> If it seems like we're just drifting I swear I actually have a plot in mind. I just want to spend some time with their relationship growing and writing some fluff.  
> I've never been fond of stories that don't let characters be happy for at least a little while.  
> Shouldn't need angst at every corner to make it interesting.  
> And I don't see why the story has to be over just cause they've finally kissed.  
> I've got more in my for these two lovebirds!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Bored yet? lol

Slumped on her couch, a muted guitar rift rocked in the background. One of the bands that Bucky was fond of. The last twinkling bits of sunlight refracted spectacularly against the city skyscrapers.  Wind howled and danced through the streets outside like an angry specter. Behind her, she could hear him chatting with the pizza delivery guy. Curled up among the cushions of her futon, Y/N stared up at her stained ceiling as she recited the names off the list of Art Nuevo artists that she was supposed to know for her art history class. The textbook was a heavy, bulky burden across her thighs. All over her living room floor was shrapnel of mostly finished final projects. Pencils, sketchpads, ink pens, and notebooks filled with important scribbled bits of information sprawled around her.

It was Sunday. Her art history final was tomorrow. Split into two parts, it was still a nightmare. First, Y/N had to hand in her essay over the greatest influences in the art of today. All 10,000 words of it. Then, there was the test over everything they’d learned in the second half of the semester. The paper was worth more points, thankfully, but she still needed to pass the test with flying colors to keep her GPA up.

The door shut with a quiet THUNK and Bucky called her name from the kitchen, “Put it away! It’d be a crime to let this get cold.” There was some clanking as he sorted through her cabinets for plates. Then the sound of a 2liter bottle of soda hissing as he unscrewed the lid. All his movements were quick and practiced. He’d spent enough time in her apartment to know where things were. Despite him purposefully making a racket as he flew around her kitchen, she couldn’t hear a single footstep. Sometimes she wondered if he hovered just above the floor when she wasn’t looking. The silent maneuvering that Bucky could accomplish when he wanted to go unnoticed wasn’t human.

Blearily, Y/N glanced down at her notes and groaned. She’d forgotten a couple of them. Of course. Eyes narrowed at the book with a pout, she huffed. Then felt a warm hand on her shoulder, giving a small squeeze. Fingers pressed circles into her neck and Bucky dropped a sweet kiss on the top of her head, “C’mon now. You’ve studied enough.” His voice was a soothing melody to her ears.

If only it was true. Stubborn, she’d spent a devote weekend studying like humanity depended on her passing all her finals. Every possible minute since Friday. It was Sunday afternoon. But it never seemed to be enough. Pouting, she let her head fall back and peered up at him, neck awkwardly craned against the back of the couch. A headache started throbbing to the beat of her pulse behind her eyes. Bucky met her gaze with a crooked upturn of his mouth. Softened just a little at the look, she stated grumpily, “I can’t fail my history test tomorrow.” Those words had left her mouth a sickening amount of times in the last 24hrs. He leaned down and kissed the pinched crease between her brows, making her relax just a bit more.

“You won’t.” He promised, soft and warm, and so confident. That assurance made her want to believe him. His thumb brushed her temple and he propped his left hand on the back of the couch, leaning over her so their faces aligned.

“How do you know?” Y/N asked, still staring up at his upside-down face. The ends of his dark hair tickled her cheeks, and his winter blues were patient, despite the dark mood she’d had all day. Outside, the sun dipped down towards dusk, and vibrant orange light drifted in from her windows. It’d been sunny all day, and she wished that she could have enjoyed it. Rather than holing up in her pjs with her nose in a book. Her fingers snagged in a hole at the hem of her threadbare shirt, making it bigger as she twisted the fabric.

Bucky squeezed her shoulder again, kneading out some of the tight knots in her muscles, “Cause you’re one of the smartest, sweetest, most talented—” He cooed in an over the top sickeningly sweet voice. Batting his eyelashes dramatically. The thick baby-talk laced among his words made her cringe. Snorting, she cut him off by shoving her hand in his face and pushing him up. An indignant squawk echoed through the apartment as Bucky stumbled back. Arms cartwheeling, he steadied himself and glared playfully at her.

“Ok that’s enough.” Y/N snarked, standing up. Carefully, she placed her book on the crowded coffee table and followed her nose to the steaming pizza on the kitchen counter. Despite his obvious sarcasm and teasing, his statement had made her feel better. Just having him here made her nerves unwind, even just a little. They’d gotten one large pizza and split it half and half with their favorite toppings on each side. Plate in hand, she took one piece of his and one of her own and winked at him when he scowled at her. Grease coated her fingers from the crust, and stringy cheese drooped off the sides. After adjusting the toppings back onto the slice, she took a big bite of his. Mouth full she slouched against the table top and hummed in satisfaction at the savory flavor. Her stomach growled in appreciation and she suddenly realized that she was starving.

Eyes rolling dramatically, Bucky picked up his own slice and started eating, leaning against the counter across from her. He fiddled with his phone in one hand, clicking through a few songs before he finally settled on one. A comfortable silence fell as they ate, and in the quiet her mind started playing through the past week. It felt like a dream. Everything wasn’t perfect, but she felt happier than she had the week before.

Pizza hot in her hands, her fingers finally started to feel warm again. Cheese strung from her mouth when she took a bite and she had to pinch it off, guiding it into her mouth. His eyes were on her, and she blushed when she found him watching. Amused, Bucky chuckled at her predicament, and she covered her mouth to keep from losing her food. Her eyes darted away, unable to handle his stare when her skin was on fire all the way down her chest.

“I was thinking we could go on our date after class Thursday.” Bucky spoke up, sitting his pizza crust down on his plate and crossing over to her cabinets above the sink. He wiped some of the shining grease along his fingers against his black jeans. Curious, she watched him as he went. Admiring the way his black and blue plaid shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. Buttons caught the light down the center and the fit of it accented his broad chest. The sleeves were rolled up and showed off his strong arms. Metal and flesh. It should be illegal to look that good in plain clothes. Lazily, he got out a cup and bumped the cabinet closed as he focused on her, “I’d like to take you on at least one date before you go out of town.” The playful gleam in his eye had her stomach fluttering pleasantly.

The music shifted to something more upbeat and Bucky started mouthing the words to the song unconsciously. Even as his fingers thrummed against the speckled counter, his attention never left her. Head tilted down, Y/N bit her lip, guilt bubbling up in her chest, “Sorry about today. I didn’t want to cancel it’s just…” She waved a hand towards her mess of school work. Encompassing the entire finals battlefield as explanation. The heat kicked on with a gust of stale air and some of the papers on the couch fluttered to the ground in its wake.

Bucky shook his head, carefully tipping the soda bottle. Ice cubes crackled in the bottom of the glass and bubbles hissed as he filled his cup, “I get it.” He perused the pizza before taking up one of hers and giving her a pointed look when he took a bite. Then he smirked at the slightly disgusted look she gave him when he spoke around his food, words muffled by his full mouth, “You should see Becca during finals. You’re a peach compared to her.”

Still, Y/N couldn’t help but worry about so many different things lately. Things were good, but she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not much had changed between them. Especially in public. They didn’t hold hands or kiss. And they weren't even technically a 'couple' yet. He wasn't her boyfriend. They had just planned to try it out on a date. On the other hand, Bucky did put his arm around her more. And when they were alone, they were slowly getting more and more comfortable with touching.

The last light of the sunset winked out behind one the skyscrapers, and she tracked the pinks and purples streaking across what little bit of sky she could see. Yelling filtered in through the wall she shared with another group of college students. Someone wasn’t happy. As her silence continued, Bucky let her think. Attention down at his phone, he typed a message out one handed. Mindlessly eating pizza with his left hand. Now that he didn’t notice, Y/N watched, worrying her bottom lip.

Canceling their date today had been a gamble. Insecurities filled her head as she worried about how well they’d handle being apart for the week she’d be traveling with her family. Then the next week that he’d be out of town with his friends. It wasn’t that long, and her emotions were kinda irrational, but it was the longest they’d been away from each other since they met. And it was poor timing. Nothing was set in stone, and she was afraid they could just as easily slip back into just being friends after being away from each other over the break. Maybe he'd come back in the New Year and tell her it was all a mistake. Again.

“I’ve got all my projects done at least.” Y/N mused, dragging herself out of her head, “It’s just the tests I’m worried about.” She dipped her crust in a container of marinara sauce and ate a bite. Bucky finished off his slice, going for a third. His bangs fell in his eyes again and he absently brushed them back. The strands were starting to curl around his chin now, inching towards his shoulders and she wondered when he’d finally cave and get a haircut.

“What do you have left to study for?” He asked, watching her attentively, and standing up straight so he could lean his hip against the island to her left.

Shrugging her shoulders, she wiped her fingers on a napkin and walked over to her fridge to get a bottle of water, “I’ve studied for everything. I’m just… worried.” Y/N huffed, shutting the refrigerator door with her hip. The gust of cold air tickled her bare thighs, making goosebumps crawl across her skin.

Everything was coming together, and it was nerve wracking. The next semester was her last. Filled with a final course on classroom management, one more English class, and a student teaching position at the Aaron Elementary and Middle School. Which would be taking up most of her time, but it was likely that she’d get hired on after she graduated.

Back against the counter beside him, Y/N twisted her water bottle in her hands, “If I fail, it’ll completely ruin my last chance at the student teaching job I want.” She bit her bottom lip and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Sometimes it felt like she was a prisoner in her own head. Thoughts consumed her until she was just a viewer floating above her body. Not living in it. Too stuck in her own head to enjoy the present. Usually caught up worrying about the future or being tormented by scars from her past.

“It’s ok to be worried because it is a big deal, but you’re not going to get anywhere by driving yourself crazy over it.” His voice surprised her, making her tense and peek up at him. Lips pressed into a thin line, she tried to focus on him. Let him ground her back in her body. Bucky took her hand, and tugged lightly, “Come on, I’ll help you go over your notes.” Her palm was damp and cold in his from her water bottle. He squeezed her hand gently, thumb rubbing across her wrist bone.

Mechanically, Y/N let him guide her back to her couch, but before she could pick up her notebook, he snatched it up. Then flipped to the study guide her English teacher had handed out in their last class. To help them study. As he straightened out the paper in his hands and perused it, she tried to gather up some of the loose papers. Placed them back in their folders and stacked her books out of the way.

Bucky sat cross legged across from where she sank down, rubbing at her tired eyes. He snorted, flipping the page, “This seems like complicated stuff for an elementary English teacher to need to know.” Some of the questions had to do with critical thinking about different books they’d read, while the other part had to do with proper grammar. And sentence structure.

“Got to know more than what we’re going to teach.” Y/N shrugged, covering her mouth as a yawn escaped her. The pizza was hitting her stomach like a brick and she just wanted to curl up with him on the couch and sleep. But then Bucky started asking her questions from the sheet and she took a deep breath to try and force her brain to focus.

They went back and forth like that for a while. His right hand found her own, and she played with his fingers. Mindlessly, she traced her fingertips over the creases of his palm. Bucky’s eyes flickered from her face, to the paper, and then to their hands. Their knees touched on the small futon and whenever she grew frustrated, over a question she didn’t know how to answer, he’d bump his knee against her own. Or squeeze her hand. Once he even flicked her forehead and winked at her when she glared at him.

Every so often, he’d ask her to explain something. What the question meant, or more about her answer. Or even part of the book the passage came from. Apparently, he was awful with written grammar. Having him ask her things that she knew about helped her ingrain the information in her brain. It helped her remember the facts just a little better because she would now recall them with his little commentary to go along with it.

Halfway through the worksheet, Y/N was finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept wandering and she needed something to keep herself focused. So, she picked up one of her pens and started drawing delicate lines along his skin. Small swirls and lines starting at his pointer finger, then branched out along his knuckles and up the back of his hand. Bucky paused in reading an essay question to her and stared down at her detailing in the start of a flower. It looked a little like henna art.

Y/N stopped and raised her eyebrows at him in question, “Does it bother you?” It helped her calm down. Something else to concentrate on besides the nerves in her chest. Maybe she should have just gotten up and picked up one of her sketchbooks scattered around her apartment, but his hand was closer. And there was something sweet in being allowed to touch him like this. Unless he told her to stop, and she’d assume wrong.

Bucky shrugged one shoulder and leaned forward closer, so she had a better angle, “Just don’t draw anything dumb.” He groused, but there was an amused smile on his lips. He let his elbows rest on his knees so that she could hold his hand fully in her lap, on top of her bare thigh. Then his baby blues focused back on the paper in front of him.

His hand was warm in her own, and his voice washed over her, deep and soothing. She detailed out small circles and sunbursts around the tips of each finger, near his nails. Then Y/N drew a bigger, matching one around his wrist. Little moons and stars scattered across his fingers. The design became increasingly intricate with detail as they finished with English and jumped back into history. Through all the details, she hid their initials. When Bucky realized what she was doing, he chuckled under his breath, but didn’t interrupt her as she listed all the important people she needed to know.

An hour went by. Nothing but music and studying filled the space between them. The smell of ink tickled her nose as she started to run out of details to add to his hand. Then Bucky tossed her notebook back on her coffee table. It scattered some pencils she had there with an obnoxious clatter, and he sighed, “I don’t think you can shove anymore information in that head of yours.” He quietly snickered, “Not without smoke coming out your ears.”

Exhausted, she put the cap back on her pen, and stretched her arms over her head. Her back cracked and she shyly watched Bucky as he turned his arm around. Twisted it in different angles and studied the black swirls taking up most of his skin. Finally, he smiled, “It’s beautiful.”

Y/N grinned, suppressing a yawn, “Had to do something for you. Since we couldn’t go on our date.” Her stomach fluttered with butterflies and she let her feet fall to the floor, stretching her legs. Pins and needles pricked at her feet as the blood returned to where it was supposed to be.

It was dark outside. The city lights replacing the stars for the night sky. Golden light filled her apartment from the kitchen and her lamps. Casting stark shadows across Bucky’s face, making his jaw sharper and lips fuller. Music still filled all the silent stretches between them. A comforting support to fall back on when she didn’t know what to say.

A mischievous grin made his eyes spark wickedly. He sat up on his knees and crawled over her. The history book propped in her lap fell heavily to the floor as she sat back, herded down by him inching closer and closer. The futon was small, and only felt smaller when Bucky’s hands propped him up on the armrest above her head, “I can think of a hundred other ways for you to pay me back.” He stated playfully, eyes pointedly trailing from her own, and down across her body.

It felt like embers spread through her, everywhere his eyes lingered. A stupid smile made her cheeks hurt as it filled her expression, “Like what?” She challenged, wondering what he would say. How far he’d take it. Excitement made her chest hum and she brought her hands up, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him from pulling back too far. His knees rest between her thighs. Her left leg propped up, pressed against the back of the couch by his hip. Her right foot hung off the cushions, not enough room with his bulk crowding her.

“Like…” Bucky trailed off, his teeth catching his bottom lip as a flicker of nerves made him pause. Y/N’s heart squeezed at the cute, sudden shyness making him hesitate. Leaning up, she kissed the corner of his mouth and when he released his punishing hold on his lip, she kissed him slowly.

“Like kissing?” Y/N mused, voice soft as her lips formed each word against his. Just barely, she heard his breath hitch. It made confidence flood through every nerve ending. She tilted her head and bit his jaw, her hand running down his arm and a blush made her skin too hot, even as she said, “Or maybe I could touch you, while you touch me?” Her words stuttered as she awkwardly added, “If you want.”

Taking his hand, she guided his palm just under her shirt, feeling his calluses against the skin of her belly as she placed his hand on her side. Her t-shirt hiked up just a bit, and she could see Bucky tense over her. Even if she couldn’t see what expression he had.

Kissing his cheek, she dropped back to study his face. Her touch explored down the front of his shirt, and she cocked her head to the side as she met his eyes. The first button under her fingers twisted as she toyed with it, debating unbuttoning it. Bucky felt her side and traveled up her shirt until his thumb brushed the bottom of her bra, testing the waters.

“That could work.” He muttered, eyes already filling up with something close to cautious lust. The plates of his metal arm whirred near her ear, where he used it to prop himself up over her. Her right fingertips investigated the cool metal plates above her head, running a hand down them, Bucky watched her with open surprise and a tender fondness made him lightly smile.

Then he leaned down and kissed her. Heat and want sang from it. His hand shifted up and cupped her breast, lightly squeezing and her back arched up off the futon. It was the first time he’d touched her like that. And it only made her want more. One of Bucky’s feet slipped off the futon. He was too long for it, but he held himself up. Clumsily, Y/N started unbuttoning his shirt. One after the other, desperate to feel the skin under there. It was hard to manage to get them undone. Difficult because her entire focus centered on the feel of his tongue passing between her lips, tasting her mouth.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t imagine breaking the kiss to even take in air. Bucky’s hand withdrew from her chest, and he helped her finish undoing his shirt. When it hung open, her eyes trailed across the hard expanse of his body. Before, it’d been too dark for her to appreciate him. Now his bare chest and the rippled expanse of his stomach were just above her. His jeans hung low on his hips, and she appreciated the hard cut of his hip bones and the small trail of dark hair disappearing under the hem of his boxers that peeked out over his jeans.

When Bucky caught her gaze again, he tugged lightly on her own shirt and she swallowed. It was bright in her living room. Nowhere for her to hide from his eyes. Still, the want coiling up between her thighs had her needing him to touch her. Near desperate to feel his skin against her own. This desire had been building for months. From the first day his eyes traced her skin as his pencil traced over his sketchbook. Slowly, she lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her laced bra underneath.

For a minute, they studied each other. Just looking. Bucky’s fingers drew a burning line down the center of her chest, and along her ribs, “You’re beautiful.” He murmured, and she didn’t think she could flush any hotter.

 Gently, she touched his neck and her thumb brushed along the scars at his shoulder. The stark contrast of skin twisting to metal, “So are you.” Y/N replied with heavy sincerity. The expression written across his face said he didn’t believe her. But then it was gone. Smoothed out and replaced with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He caught her hand, guiding her touch away from the scars and kissed her fingers. Before she could argue further, he started kissing her again.

Why wouldn’t he touch her with his metal hand?   
The thought made her heart sink and ache as the answer tickled the back of her mind.  
But then it was gone, and she couldn’t think about anything at all.

The feeling of their skin touching in so many new places had her shuddering. Her breath came in harder and all she could think about was the man above her. The taste of his tongue and every small, sweet sound that escaped him. He pressed down on her firmer and her legs parted further for him. A deep base beat thrummed from the speakers and his hips rolled against her own. It felt like he might be doing it in time with the music, or the song was just perfect for the moment. His jeans scratched at her bare thighs and were hard against the thin fabric of her shorts. It hurt a little, but she couldn’t find the willpower to care. His belt buckle was cold against her stomach, and she wanted his hands on her.

But he only used his right hand.

His hand explored every inch of her bare skin, and then down to her thigh. His touch burned as he caught her rear and squeezed. She jerked, a small yelp swallowed up by his mouth. The smile she felt against her lips had her snorting a quiet laugh. Their breath mingled as they tried to suppress the laughter. Breathless and sweetly shy.

Then his attention fell to her neck and Y/N stretched her head back to give her more access. His tongue left a cool trail along her pulse point, then his teeth scraped against her ear. His hips were firm against hers and when she bucked, pleasure coursed through her. Lips against her temple, Bucky kissed and then he sat back to stare down at her. Her back arched up as his fingers snuck back under her, toying with the clasp of her bra.

The smoldering expression in his eyes had her craving him with every fiber of her being. She surged forward to kiss him again, just as he leaned down. Her forehead smacked against his jaw, making him curse. Then he lost his precarious balance on her too-small couch. Within two seconds, he tumbled off and to the floor with a thud. Flat on his ass, Bucky barely missed landing on the glass coffee table. Stunned, he held his mouth and blinked up at her in surprise. Horror replaced all the places heat had been just a second before.

Air nipped at every bare inch of skin across her limbs. There just wasn’t enough warmth in the room now that Bucky’s body wasn’t covering her own. Mortified, Y/N’s hand pressed to her aching head and she stared back down at him, “I’m so sorry!” She stammered, pulling her hand back and thankfully not seeing any blood. Quickly, she sat up, feet hitting the floor near his sprawled legs, “Are you ok?” Her hands fluttered between herself and him. Unsure of whether she should help him up or run and get an ice pack. If he ended everything here and now, she didn't think she'd blame him.

Carefully, Bucky sat up entirely and pulled his hand off his mouth. He licked experimentally with his tongue and she cringed when she saw that she’d split his bottom lip. He tested the wound with his finger, and then shook his head, a crooked smile finding his mouth, “God you’ve got a hard head…”

“Sorry!” She squeaked again, and as she met his eyes, a small bubble of laughter escaped her. The situation was just too uncomfortable and funny. And if she didn’t laugh, she thought she might cry. Then he smiled wider, even as blood welled up in the small wound. Unable to help it, Y/N snorted and covered her mouth as embarrassment flooded her, “I’m s-sorry.” She babbled again, and Bucky’s shoulders shook, shirt hanging open around him as he laughed along with her.

“It’s ok.” He replied, waving her off as he got up on his knees. Situating himself between her legs, he looked up at her, laughing even as he squeezed her bare thigh with his right hand.

Y/N tried to silence her embarrassed giggling, “I’m such a clutz. Way to ruin the mood.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself. The heat in her cheeks was unbearable, and she stared up at her ceiling as she tried to catch her breath. To get ahold of herself. Her fingers caught in her tangled hair as she shoved it out of her face. When she caught him staring at her, she hid her face behind her hands and shook her head. If only the couch would suck her into it. Let her disappear.

Bucky caught one of her hands and snorted, “That’s ok.” His smile was wide and genuine. Even as his lip grew puffy. When she continued to hide her face behind his hands, he shifted his grip to her wrist and gently brought it down, “Come on, it’s fine. I promise.” Y/N finally met his eyes, “I think it’s cute.”

Eyebrows raised, she shook her head incredulously but they smiled at each other for a long minute. Reaching out to touch his jaw, she huffed a sigh, as if the situation was hopeless, “At least we don’t take ourselves too seriously.”

“Never.” Bucky agreed, kissing her palm. A small print of blood was left behind by the cut on his lip. Grimacing, he wiped it away with his thumb, looking apologetic.

Unable to do anything but find his actions adorable, sarcasm dripped from her words as she continued, “Cause my hard head just totally wrecked your lip. Sure you still got all your teeth?” That comment made a scoff leave him, then he started laughing. Hard. Instantly, she followed after him and her head fell forward onto his shoulder as she succumbed to hysterical giggles.

If she had moments like this to look forward, then Y/N thought she might be done for. Game over. Bucky would be it for her. A small part of her was already falling in love with the contagious laughter filling up her apartment. Even if it was dangerous. Even if it was too soon. Even if it might lead to nothing but heartbreak. His laugh was sunlight for her soul. And she’d been in the dark for far too long.


	13. Winter Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that it's almost like I'm righting this in 'real time' right now. Since this story is set in 2018. I'm sure it won't stay this way for long.  
> But it's kind of fun thinking about it now.  
> Thank you for all your support and comments. They really keep me going through all the annoying editing so please keep them up.  
> Even if it's just a squeal or one kind word XD they all help haha

The snow caught in his dark hair like little teardrop pearls. Then swept away with a twirl in the chilling wind, causing his bangs to catch across his eyes. It was cold, and the sun had disappeared behind the skyscrapers early that day. Heavy clouds hung so low that it seemed like the tallest buildings were pillars, barely keeping them afloat. Fingers interlaced tightly with his, Y/N hugged Bucky’s arm, trying to steal as much of his body heat that she could. Smoothly, they weaved their way through the bustling crowd. Chatter filled the air, and he had to bow his head close to her in order to carry any conversation.

Unsurprisingly, the holiday market was brimming with life. Even with it being a Thursday. But it was edging towards Christmas, only 5 days away. Everyone had some last minute shopping to attend to. Despite it being dark, the walkway and vender tents glowed with light. Strings of tealights twinkled above their heads like falling stars. And the giant traditional Christmas tree soared up and up like a glittering beacon in the center of it all, near the ice rink. Laughter filled the air with dancing energy and from far away, Y/N could hear the distinct singing of jolly carolers. It was beautiful.

“I still need to find something for my mom.” Y/N mused, squeezing Bucky’s hand to make sure he heard her. Distracted, he nodded, bright eyes peering around as he took in everything with quick, efficient sweeps. He was always alert when they were out together. Probably attentive even by himself. Especially if there was a lot going on. The more time she spent with him, the more she noticed that he observed everything. In great detail. It made him an excellent artist, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he always needed to keep his guard up.

Shivering as a breeze brushed the back of her neck, she adjusted her scarf higher. It trailed down the front of her coat, long and soft, and fluttered with every step. It was cold enough that Bucky even had a black scarf tucked into his collar, and his nose and ears were chapped pink from the biting wind.

“I wanted to get something else for Becca.” He replied after being silent just a beat too long. Little by little, he guided her closer to a row of cute shops at their left, pulling subtly at her arm.

Once there, she dropped his arm to look at some books, picking a few up and reading their descriptions. Every so often they’d step away from each other to shop around, but he never seemed to be too far from her. Whenever she thought she’d lost track of him, she’d turn, and Bucky would be just a couple people away. Or sometimes right behind her. Most of the time, he was able to disappear and reappear without her even noticing.

After about a half hour, they stopped to linger by a shop with a rainbow of colors across all the makeshift tables. Handmade jewelry and trinkets reflected the shifting lights back up at them. Glass birds on white strings hung from support beams along the tent’s ceiling. Every few seconds a breeze would sweep through and they’d chime merrily. Reaching up, Y/N tapped one of the birds carefully, ringing the bell hanging from it. Then Bucky came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, hugging her back against him as he looked around. Tall and broad enough to comfortably be able to see with her tucked against his chest.

Surprisingly, Y/N didn’t see anything she wanted, but Bucky pointed to something on the shelf behind the vender. It was a round glass globe that had been hung on a delicately twisted metal stand. In the center of it, there was a vivid green succulent plant. Heat wafted from inside the stall, and the older woman smiled at him, “Good eye. Handblown glass, and you’ll never find two alike. These plants are hard to kill too. Just give it a lot of sun.” She prattled on about the price and how to care for the plant and keep the small glass terrarium clean. Kissing the top of her head, Bucky released her and stepped up to the stall, so he could pay the bubbly lady.

Bored, Y/N peered around the market, tuning the woman out. Beanie falling low on her brow, she pushed it back up out of the way, fixing her hair. The shopkeeper was taking her time, and Bucky humored her. A small, charming smile made his face soft, and he replied to her questions quietly. When he caught Y/N looking, he winked at her and then focused back on the older woman. A goofy, stupid grin stretched across her lips and she looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the hearts that had definitely filled her eyes like a cartoon character.

Snowflakes drifted across the crowd. Everything had a shimmering glow to it from the light catching in the crystals. With every breath, fog swirled from her lips. She cupped her chilled fingers around her mouth and blew hot air against her knitted mittens. Across the market a little blonde girl blew bubbles into the air. Out of the way, in the barely-there space between two shops. The bubbles caught the holiday lights, shifting between jade and scarlet. Wonder radiated from the child so brightly that Y/N could see it even from where she was standing. Amused, she smiled into her hands, rubbing her palms together for friction.

After Bucky paid, the shopkeeper busied herself with carefully boxing the terrarium up, telling him to keep it upright so the succulent didn’t get hurt. It fit in a tall white box, and then she wrapped it in striped candy cane paper.

“Becca like to keep plants?” Y/N asked, stepping out of the way of a couple trying to see what else the woman had on display. Jostled over, she pressed herself close to him and Bucky protectively draped his arm around her shoulders. His attention fell to her, and she raised her eyebrows. A plump woman in a pink coat knocked into them, but she barely felt it with his body shielding her.

Lips pursed, he nodded and took the box from the woman. It was now settled in a pretty red and green bag, “Ya, her dorm room is full of plants, and her desk at Stark’s is near a window. She loves little trinkets like this.” Bucky lightly jostled the bag. Then he guided them away from the center of the market, heading towards the far end near the ice rink.

Y/N hummed, and they stopped by a few more places. After she found something for her mom and grandparents, Bucky bought her a cup of hot chocolate. Everything felt effortless and almost euphoric. She’d finished all her finals, and now had Christmas break to look forward to. Their first date was going blissfully well, and the happy holiday spirit filling up the air around her had her breathing easier.

“Wanna take a break?” Y/N asked, noticing that he was becoming steadily tenser beside her. His eyes kept flickering around the crowd and, despite the pink across his nose, he was looking pale. Tired and agitated.

Surprise made him glance down at her, and Bucky awkwardly chuckled, voice tight, “Ya, it’s just…”

“Overcrowded?” She supplied, and he nodded. Pure relief relaxed the uncomfortable expression making his jaw tight. Despite living in a very populated city, the market seemed to have brought everyone out of the woodworks. And there was a lot of activity spilling from everywhere. It was abhorrently loud, and no one respected anyone’s personal space. At all.

They rounded a corner, trailing away from the venders and admiring the decorations hanging from every tree and bush. Couples walked past them, laughing and flirting. Children ran around the snow-covered park, weaving through the glistening trees. It was easier to hear the music from here, away from the crowd. A live band was set up on the other side of the ice rink, near the base of the Christmas tree. Salt crunched under her boots, and sugar coated her tongue.

Sipping her hot drink, steam curled from her lips and the lid of the cup, “What are you and Becca doing for Christmas?” She asked, as they drifted towards an empty bench. Snow clung to her eyelashes and she sat her heavy bags gratefully down with a sigh. She’d ended up with three, plus her purse swinging low against her hip. Bucky only had the one for Becca and another with a couple books he’d gotten.

After dusting off most of the snow, Y/N sank down with a small groan. It was perfect timing. Her feet had just started to protest about all the walking. From where they were perched, they could see the ice rink. It was nearly as crowded as the market with skaters.

Bucky took a drink from his hot wine, something she’d never been able to enjoy. Bags settled next to his feet, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tucked her into his side, “We’ll go to dad’s that morning and exchange gifts. She insists on including him, even if he never appreciates any of it.” His words were bitter, like they often were whenever he spoke of his father, “I’ll make breakfast, and stay until she decides she’s had enough. Then she’ll try to buy me dinner, but I always end up picking up the check.” He smirked, and Y/N snorted a small laugh, shaking her head. His eyes trailed across her features, like he was studying her, and his thumb brushed up and down her arm. When he looked at her like that, her heart forgot how to beat right.

A group of carolers swung past, and she grinned as their voices floated up into the sky, pretty. Very pretty. A little boy carried a bucket for donations and enthusiastically rung a golden bell as they went. When they reached them, Y/N dug through her wallet and handed over a few spare ones. Bucky offered out a five and the group smiled at them appreciatively but didn’t miss a beat in their rendition of All I Want for Christmas Is You.

They lingered longer than they would have before, and one of the older gentlemen winked at her. Their song became just for them, and Y/N sank deeper into Bucky’s hold, embarrassed. He just hugged her tighter. The embarrassment only grew as the verses started to strike true in her heart. Cause if she was being honest, she’d already gotten the best Christmas present she could have. A date with Bucky Barnes.

But that was too cheesy to ever admit out loud. Especially to him.

Grinning, Bucky kissed her temple and chuckled at the expression filling her features. He started quietly singing along with them, and the carolers swayed with the music. They formed a halfmoon around their bench and the little boy even piped up, very off-key. A few people stopped to watch the show and she hid her face in Bucky’s coat. She could feel his laughter through his chest and he teasingly rocked her.

As the song wound to a close, she started clapping because they were fantastic. Even if she didn’t appreciate the looks bystanders started to give them. Or the small crowd that gathered around their little bench to watch the show. Applause filled the night around them, and she sat up straighter, smiling shyly as the carolers said their goodbyes. Along with a few good wishes and words of thanks.

As everyone cleared out, Bucky laughed and asked, “What about you? Just flying out to see your family?” Unruffled by the knowing glances and giggles from the dispersing crowd. It took her a second to remember what they’d been talking about before the impromptu show.

Y/N took a long drink of her hot chocolate and met his eyes. They twinkled in the glittering multicolored lights strung along the sidewalk. The metal bench was cold underneath her, but Bucky’s hold kept her warm. Sighing, she licked her lips free of sugar and replied, “Ya, we’ll be staying with my grandparents. Everyone will come over Christmas morning and we’ll open presents. Lots of prying questions and too much food and small talk.” She rolled her eyes, “It’s not a big town, so there’s nothing too exciting to do.”

Bucky was quiet for a minute, thoughtful. He tilted his head back and examined the lamppost to their left, wrapped up in garland, “Must be nice to have a big family like that.” He mused, not looking at her, and she felt a pang of guilt. Realizing that she was complaining about something that he would be grateful to have.

“It is,” She backtracked, squeezing her cup a bit tighter, “They get annoying, but it is nice. Just wish they weren’t so nosy.” She chuckled and gave a half-shrug, “Every year, my grandma asks me when I’m going to bring home a boy for once.” Curious, she gave her cup a small shake to see how much hot coco she had left. Just under half a cup.

Listening to her with the corner of his mouth tilted up, Bucky snorted, “Maybe next year. But I don’t know if they’ll like me much.” He kicked out a foot, knocking some snow off the top of his boot. Then brought up his other and knocked the heels together. Muddy snow and salt clung to the treads of both their shoes. Just a part of winter life. Clumps fell from his shoes and crumpled against the sidewalk.

“They’d love you.” Y/N assured a bit too hastily, and then looked away, blushing, “I’m sure you’d get along with them just fine.” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

With a shake of his head, Bucky took a long drink of his wine and sighed, “I dunno, Steve’s usually the golden boy. Can win over any mother.” Bucky grinned ruefully, showing his teeth, “Parents usually hate me. Think I’m a bad influence.” He laughed. His eyes lit up when he remembered something, and he sat his empty red cup aside, “Becca’s dying to meet you. Don’t be surprised if she ambushes us at some point during your break. She’s impossible when she gets curious about something.”

Excited, Y/N shook her head, “I don’t mind.” She smiled softly, “I’d love to meet her too.” Moments like this made her tingly warm all over. The way he was smiling openly with her, and full of energy. Everything felt blissful in the little bubble they had. And she found herself unwilling to share that happiness with anyone else. Despite how thrilled she was about this date, she hadn’t told anyone yet. She wanted to keep it just between them, at least for a little longer.

Bucky noticed something above his head and got a pleased, childlike grin on his face, “C’mon!” He chuckled, abruptly standing up and gathering his bags, along with a couple of her own. Leaving her with her purse and only one shopping back. He tossed their empty cups in a trashcan next to their bench and whirled back to her. Before she could ask any questions, he caught her hand and dragged her along behind him. She had to hold her beanie in place, and somehow keep her bags secure as she tried to keep up with his long legs.

Confused, Y/N glanced around, trying to figure out what he had seen. Then she heard the jingling of sleigh bells. Across the sidewalk, just a few yards away, a polished scarlet and gold carriage slowed to a stop. Impatient snowy white stallions neighed and shook their heads, ready to keep going. Even as the driver waved bye to a pair of little girls, they stomped their hooves against the cement. The children hopped down with the help of their parents and stopped to pet the horses one last time before finally scurrying off.

A gust of wind made her hair fly in her face when they stopped at the side of the carriage. Laughing, she brushed the wild strands out of the way and tucked the beanie back down to keep her ears warm. The driver smiled a crinkled grin down at them, a cup of something warm poured from a silver thermos in his hands. His eyes flickered between them, and he took a hearty drink, steam curling around his white beard, before smacking his lips with a satisfied sigh, “Long or short ride?”

Wallet in hand, Bucky fished out a few bills and offered them to the driver, “We’ll take the long ride.” Y/N didn’t even have a chance to protest. Instead, she cautiously approached one of the two horses, pure white as snow. They had bridals with golden bells keeping them hooked to the carriage. Gently, she brought up a hand and pet the horse’s neck, feeling the heat radiating from it in waves. The mane wasn’t as soft as she’d imagined. More course and damp than anything.

“You really know how to treat a lady.” The driver praised, tipping his black top hat towards her and winking. A sheepish smile tugged at her mouth, and she jerked when the horse’s tail flicked over and whipped against her thigh. He snickered at her surprise, “That means she likes you.” He teased and took the money, tucking it away.

She snorted a laugh and beamed at Bucky when he came up beside her. He laid a hand on the horse’s flank and pet across her back. The driver finished off his drink as they marveled at the beautiful animal. Sighing, he screwed his lid back on his thermos and waved his hand to the back of the carriage. Reluctant, Y/N stepped away and followed a couple steps behind Bucky.

Smoothly, he climbed in first, sitting his bags in the spacious floorboard. Then he took her colorful bag and offered his hand to her. Adjusting the strap of her purse, she placed it across her chest diagonally. Then held onto him, and gripped the edge of the carriage so she could get in. Despite there being stairs on the side, it was still high, and she used his hand for balance as she hefted herself up. There was a small black cover over the top, protecting the leather seats from the snow. And fighting off the chill for the passangers.

Clambering up, the carriage wobbled as she stepped in, and she stumbled. Bucky kept a good hold on her hand and caught her elbow, steadying her. After she sat down, the horses tugged the carriage forward with an abrupt jerk. The cold air stole her breath as glittering trees started to fly past. They headed in the direction of the candy cane archways. White and red arches glowed over the sidewalk, just tall enough for the carriage to pass under.

It really was a winter wonderland.

A cold nose pressed against her skin as he dropped a kiss onto her cheek, “Having fun yet?” His voice was intimate and low, just for her. Soft Christmas music drifted to them along the wind from a portable radio the driver kept up front. Turning her head, she met his curious blue gaze. They were so close like this. Closer than she’d ever dreamed he would ever allow her to be. She hugged his arm to her and tried to hide from the biting wind. Their breath mingled in puffs of white.

“Best date ever.” She admitted and snorted when he gave her a victorious, cheeky grin. It wasn’t even an exaggeration for his benefit. Never in her life could she remember enjoying herself this much with someone she was dating.

“Told you.” Bucky preened, squeezing her knee where he let his arm relax along their thighs. They were pressed from shoulder to thigh, not any spare space left, “I’ll always show my best girl a good time.” He flashed her a toothy smile that had the corners of his eyes crinkling. Dark strands of his hair fluttered wildly in the wind, accenting the blue in his eyes. It was getting long enough that it curled around his chin. Stubble scraped against her skin when he nuzzled her cheek.

“So, I’m your best girl?” Y/N teased, and she knew the deep pink along his cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. Bucky scoffed, pretending to be annoyed with her, and tugged her hat down over her eyes. She swatted at his metal hand and cursed at how hard it was. The impact seemed to vibrate through her bones. Darkness covered her vision as her beanie blinded her. Wiggling in her seat, she tried to free her other arm from where it was trapped against his side.

“Woah! Hey tiger, don’t hurt yourself.” Bucky chided, catching her wrist. She freed her other hand from around his arm and blindly smacked his shoulder. Then shoved her beanie crookedly out of the way, scowling at him. There was barely any real spite behind her glare, and she pressed her lips tightly together to hide her smile. When she went to whack him again, he caught her other wrist too, leaving her defenseless. Hands above her head in his gloved grip, she pouted up at him.

“Let go.” She demanded impudently and then snorted a little laugh, biting her lower lip to try and stifle it.

An odd expression crossed his features for just a second, when he glanced from her face to his hold on her wrist. The hard metal of his fingers was tight against her wrist bone, but it didn’t hurt. Then the emotion passed, and he let go of her, rubbing his hands together in his lap, as if to wipe something away. His smile faltered for only a second before he gave her an even more dazzling one, “Course you’re my best girl.” He admitted with a chuckle, “Definitely the best girl I know, not counting Becca.” He winked. And she wanted to smile, really did, but worry had made her insides cold.

Still, she gave an awkward one and laughed, “Sisters always win.” It was probably nothing. Probably just a stupid bubble of anxiety. But the thought had been bugging her for two weeks now. Since they agreed to go on this date. Ignoring her inner battle, Y/N continued, “I can live with being second best.” Red and green lights shimmered across his face and the rhythmic clopping of horse hooves danced with the whistling wind. Hesitantly, she wrapped her arm back through his right one, and leaned against him.

The carriage was passing beside a frozen creek bed. Ice filled up all the places where water had once been, and snow made it look more like a little hill than a creek. Still, the large rocks lining its sides were pretty in white and a lone snowman stood guard near one of the tiny bridges that crossed over it.

Bucky’s eyes softened, and his expression was sweet when she glanced back up at him, “You two aren’t even in the same ballpark.” He whispered, and his attention flickered to her mouth. That familiar draw had her breath catching in her throat. As his head tilted just a hair closer, she brought her right hand over and gently cupped the top of his left hand. Bucky’s entire body locked up beside her. The metal was hard through the material of their gloves and she heard the quiet hum of his plates shifting and clicking as he tensed.

Just as carefully, he withdrew his hand from under her own. Then, with only a second of hesitation, he smoothly kissed her. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she wouldn’t have even noticed. His mouth was cold, and her heart twisted, confused as to what direction to go. First, her stomach dropped into a dark pit, but then butterflies fluttered awake inside her ribs. Their lips danced together slowly, intimately. He brought his right hand up and held her neck, thumb stroking her jaw. The material of his glove was rough against her chilled skin. Lips warming to life, she hummed happily against his mouth.

Enraptured, Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wanting to be closer. Wind made his hair tickle her cheek and his teeth nipped her bottom lip. Sweet sparks twirled through her nerves. Their knees knocked together as they twisted to be closer, the buttons of his coat scraped against the zipper of her own. There were too many clothes in the way but losing any wouldn’t be the best idea.

This time, she didn’t even think about it. When Bucky pulled back to take a breath, she caught his scarf in her left hand and tugged him back in. Laughter broke from his mouth and tickled her own as he gave into her. Kissing her harder. Heated, his right hand tangled in her hair, keeping her against him, but his left hung up just above her hip. As if he’d been about to place it there but then caught himself. Instinctively, she caught his hand and drew him closer, so he’d hold her. The hardness of the metal wasn’t unpleasant against her jeans, and she didn’t mind the different way it felt compared to his flesh hand. Firmer but no less gentle. He was always heartbreakingly gentle with her.

Then he froze up again. Instantly, Bucky broke the kiss and let out a shuddering breath. He withdrew his hand, tucking it into his coat pocket. Then he leaned back in to kiss her again, but she turned her head away. His lips missed their mark and kissed her cheek. Immediately, she tried to swallow around the nervous lump forming in her throat, “Bucky,” She paused, unsure of what she even wanted to say. All her thoughts felt scattered and buzzing like honeybees in her skull. The wind felt colder when it nipped at her cheeks and heated mouth.

“Ya?” He asked, sitting back so he could look at her. Eyebrows drawn low, he licked his lips and looked like he was trying to school his expression. Smooth it out. He let his hand drop from her hair and took one of hers up, knee knocking lightly against hers, “What’s wrong?”

Eyes flickering from his, then back down to her muddy boots, she asked, “Why won’t you touch me?” That wasn’t exactly specific, but maybe he’d get the drift. The gifts scattered around their feet had snow sticking to the shiny paper, and she drew her feet back to keep from getting mud on them. An awkward silence grew between them.

Bucky frowned, then gave a weak, playful smile, and shook his head, as if she were ridiculous, “What do you mean? I’m touching you right now.” His eyes were lit with something nervous, and fragile. Smile too tight and stretched wrong. It didn’t match up with his eyes, and she tried to bite back the frustration itching in her throat.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Y/N stated quietly, and his tight smile winked out. Gone and replaced with a carefully blank mask. Upset, she sighed and let her eyes pointedly drop to where his metal hand was hidden in his pocket, “Ever since our—” She struggled to find a word for that Sunday night, circling her hand in the air like she was trying to grab the right explanation, “Our fight, you keep pulling away when I try to hold your hand.”

This time, he didn’t try to deflect or correct her. Instead, he averted his hard eyes and pursed his lips, “I don’t like it.” He stated so softly and bitterly that she almost didn’t hear him. The words were nearly stolen by the howling wind and jingling bells. His face was hard, and she could practically feel him building up his walls. Brick by brick.

“It never bothered you before.” Y/N pointed out, her fingers prickled with anxiety and she tried to keep her breathing even, “Did I do something wrong?” She used her free hand to tug at her scarf, wrapping the ends around her glove. Needing to fidget with something to try and disperse the nervous energy.

“No.” He snapped, bright eyes glaring up at her, and she winced. Then the anger crumbled into something awkward and frustrated, “No, you didn’t.” He amended, gentler, “It’s got nothing to do with you.” He sat up straighter, glowering down at a distant point on the floor. But not even seeing it. His hand grew tight around her own, nearly hurting, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed back just as hard. If he could just feel her. Maybe he’d realize how much this was hurting her.

Ducking her head, she tried to get him to look at her. She leaned closer, head near his chest as she tried to catch his eyes, “Then what…?” Her sentence trailed off, open and vulnerable as she gestured with her free hand, imploring.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The sentence was like a door being slammed into her face. Bucky glanced down at her, eyes as serious and calm as an ocean before a storm. Bit back anger laced his words, but she wasn’t sure if it was really meant for her or himself. The emotions in his eyes had her sitting back, needing to take a breath of fresh air. To try and clear her head.

“Why?” Y/N’s voice grew quieter, crippled by hurt blossoming in her chest. It felt like a knife had opened somewhere soft inside her and was leaking slow moving poison. Her hand fell to her lap, squeezing into a fist. Just keep breathing evenly and it’d be ok. But it felt like everything she was doing was wrong.

“Because…” It was like she was trying to wring information from a rock. He wouldn’t look at her again. Wouldn’t stop biting out every single word. Bucky’s head thunked against the back of the seat, eyes squeezed shut as he let out a slow breath. The air curled white up towards the covering of the carriage. His jaw clenched, and she could just barely make out the humming of his metal arm as he grew tenser.

“Because why?” Y/N hated how she sounded like a child. Like a curious kid too young to understand whatever he was going through. But she wasn’t too young. She could understand. If he’d just give her the chance.

“I just don’t!” It wasn’t a shout, but it had every drop of strength in it like one. Even if he didn’t raise his voice. Immediately, her entire body recoiled. Like she’d been struck.

Within a second, she tugged back her hand and fell deathly quiet. Bucky gaped at her. Like he’d manage to surprise himself too. Then he covered his face with his hands and leaned forward on his knees. Y/N’s heart ached for him. Even as she scooted over until she was pressed to her side of the carriage, and they were no longer touching. Eyes turned out towards the distant buildings, she crossed her arms around herself and tried to keep her breathing steady. It wasn’t that he scared her. Not really.

But he did hurt her.

“Ok.” She murmured, and she wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her. Wasn’t sure if she cared. Wasn’t even sure how she felt about it all. Emotions clashed inside of her like twisting waves. Hurt, frustration, confusion, and even a bit of anger. He didn’t have to talk to her like that.

Bucky let out a harsh breath that had a bit of a frustrated growl in it. She ignored him. Didn’t even look at him.

They’d entered a part of the park with more trees. Spindly bare branches stretched up towards the night sky, snow clinging to every available space. Icicles hung off the tips of the wood, some long and tinted blue in the soft light. There weren’t as many decorations over here, and less people milled around. But it was still a beautiful night. It’d finally stopped snowing, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Silence stretched on for a while. Muscles coiled tight, she ground her teeth and bit her bottom lip. All her conflicting emotions had her close to tears. They hadn’t fought like this before. And she wasn’t even sure who was entirely in the wrong. Maybe she’d pushed too hard. But he shouldn’t take his anger out on her. There was no excuse for it. Especially when he clearly said she hadn’t done anything wrong.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Bucky clenching and unclenching his empty fists. Elbows on his knees, he’d curled in on himself. He stared down at his hands, then peered over at her. She acted like she hadn’t noticed. This time, she wouldn’t be the one to break the quiet.

It was his turn to try. All her trying had led to him biting her head off. She was done.

Noel played over the radio and she bit the inside of her cheek. Thoughts struck out at her like angry vipers. Poisoned her with mutilating insecurities.

“Are you ok?” The question was hesitant, and weak. It didn’t even register at first. She almost laughed because the answer should have been obvious. Yet here Bucky was, asking it anyway. Still raw, she took in a harsh breath to try and steady her voice. To swallow up the tears.

Her gaze flickered to him for just a second. Took in his pinched eyebrows and guilty expression. Glaring, satisfaction sparked inside her when he flinched, then she looked away, “No.” The word was firm but quiet and tasted like acid on her tongue. She tried to count the trees as they passed and noticed that they were drawing closer to the Christmas tree. The driver was being awfully quiet up front, not even humming along with the radio anymore.

Another long minute passed, filled with the jingling of sleigh bells and drumming hooves. The tension between them was palpable and it made her skin itch. Part of her wanted to tell the driver to stop so she could get out and storm off. But that would require standing and gathering her things and trying to walk while her vision was blurry with tears.

It was too much trouble.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky finally continued, “I didn’t mean—” He huffed and sat up straighter, hands waving in the air, “I didn’t mean to snap like that.” He scrubbed at his face and then carded his fingers through his hair. And then stared at her imploringly. Like a man desperate for a lifeline because he was so terribly lost.

Slowly, Y/N met his eyes and nodded. It wasn’t ok, but she understood. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, voice cracking from the tears she kept holding back, “We don’t have to talk about it. If you don’t want to.” She offered, even though it was the last thing she wanted. Obviously, she wanted to talk about all of it. Why he didn’t want her touching his metal hand. Why he had snapped at her. Why he was so angry and uncomfortable. But if he didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t make him. It wouldn’t do any good to pressure him into it.

Bucky appeared both guilty and relieved. He nodded with her, biting his lip, “I’m just not ready.” He explained, “I think I will be. Soon. To talk about it with you. Just not yet.” He rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at his feet, “It’s kind of embarrassing, but it’s not your fault.”

Nervously, he glanced up at her, pain in his eyes. He studied her expression and relaxed minutely at what he seemed to find there. Then he slowly reached over and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushed under just under her eye. Apologies were written all over his face. When she placed her hand over his, he gently grasped her fingers. She let him hold it and he squeezed, a watery, relieved smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

“You have to tell me these things.” Y/N turned in her seat, drawing up one knee and tucking her muddy boot under her thigh. The position left some space between them and gave her room with her thoughts, without him too close to distract her, “Don’t just get mad at me, or try and hide it from me. Tell me so I can understand.” She stressed, pressing her free hand to her chest.

The guilt made him drop his head, focusing down at their hands. He plucked at the tip of her glove, tugging at the loose black material and she reached up, smoothing his damp bangs from his eyes, wet from snow. He peeked up at her, “There’s a lot of stuff I’m not ready to talk about yet.” The words were bit out and mumbled, but not angry. Only tired and reluctant and she could live with that.

“Like the war.” Y/N offered, hand tracing down his jaw. Then his neck, and back down to his hand in her own. She cupped his larger hand in both of hers, wishing it was skin against skin, but it was too cold out for that.

He nodded, eyes darting down to where they were connected. Bucky’s thumb knocked against her own, like they were having a thumb war, and she pinned his down. That made him smile just a little, “Ya and…”

“You’re arm.” She continued, studying his face even as he focused on trying to pin her thumb back down in return. His eyebrows were drawn low and pain had his lips tight. Even his shoulders drooped, like gravity pulled harder on him than anyone else.

Yet again his head bobbed in confirmation, and he sighed “And some family stuff.” Then he looked at her. The Christmas tree passed behind him, even more enormous now that they were right under it. Bucky tilted his head back and stared up, a little bit of awe relaxing his exhausted features.

Weakly, she managed a smile and joked, “That doesn’t leave much for us to talk about.” When Bucky snorted a tiny laugh, she added, “What ever will we do to pass the time?” He turned back to her and finally managed to pin down her thumb now that she was distracted.

“Make out?” Bucky cracked a full impish grin at that and she shook her head, covering her mouth to suppress a giggle. She dropped her knee so that she could sit closer to him.

“You just want to get in my pants.” Y/N accused, poking his chest and he instantly gaped at her. Free hand against his chest, he shook his head, as if baffled.

“Not true.” He scowled, offended. When she raised her eyebrows in question, he leaned forward and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. It surprised her enough that she let out a small embarrassing sound from the back of her throat. The dominating kiss of teeth and tongue had her entire body hot within the few seconds that it lasted. When he broke away with a soft sigh, she blinked, dazed, and took in the shit eating grin making his eyes twinkle.

“If I just wanted that, I’d have gotten it and been gone forever ago.” He snickered, and it was her turn to gape at him.

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, she finally settled on glaring at him. Puffing out her cheeks in a growl, she let go of his hand and took off her beanie, swatting him with it, “Ass!” She barked, unsure if she wanted to laugh or shove him out of the carriage into the snow.

Bucky squawked and held up his hands in surrender, “Hey! Hey! I said it wasn’t true!” He snatched her beanie from her and held it above her head when she tried to grab it back. Bucky leaned closer to her and the edge of her anger melted away at the sincere expression that made his eyes shine, “I’m here cause I want to be with you. For as long as you’ll put up with me.” He took in a small breath, as if deciding on something difficult, and added, “Because I like the person I am when I’m with you. You make me feel alive again.”

Heart thundering in her ears, Y/N started to say something, but nothing felt right. Every word that came to mind was too cheap. Too imperfect to describe how he made her feel. How she felt right then. Instead, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

This was easier. Expressing how she felt with her body was effortless. And she knew he understood because he groaned quietly and leaned heavily against her. Like he wanted to meld with her. Until no one could tell them apart. Until their colors mixed up and created something unique and euphoric. This kiss wasn’t burning like the last one. It was slower, and more heartfelt. And she could taste every ounce of affection poured into it. Like sugar on her tongue.

When Bucky pulled away, he didn’t go very far. He let his forehead rest against hers and his nose was cold when it brushed her own. Warm breath fanned against her cheeks when he whispered, “I’m sorry.” The more time they spent together, the easier it seemed to get for him to say that.

“We’re ok.” Y/N replied and brushed a small peck against his mouth, enjoying the little sound it made. Enjoying that she could do that at all. Whenever she wanted.

“Good.” Bucky smiled, and she could feel it against her mouth when he kissed her again.

When their lips parted, she confessed, “This won’t be easy. We’re both pretty fucked up.”

Bucky tensed, and sat back. When she looked at him, he tilted his head, “Both of us?” He raised his eyebrows. Like he didn’t believe her. Releasing her hand, he brought up her beanie, gently tugging it back on her head. Gloved fingers brushed her cheeks as he fixed her hair and got it on straight. Instantly, her ears felt warmer.

Slowly she nodded, and it started to dawn on her that she hadn’t told him much. Not about her ex. Not about all that hurt and the darkness that she’d gone through because of it. But to be fair, he’d never asked, and his reluctance to confide in her didn’t make her comfortable enough to open up in return.

One day. She’d talk about it with him one day soon. And hopefully he would understand. Because if he didn’t, she wasn’t sure where that would leave them. Definitely nowhere good.

When he continued to eye her, expression serious as if he were seeing her in a different light, she smirked, “I’ll show you my scars if you show me yours.” She raised her eyebrows in a challenge and he scowled. Y/N cheekily tacked on, “It’s only fair.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and waved her off, “Fine, fine. Soon. I promise.” He pouted and glanced down at the floorboard before lighting up with a genuine smile, “I know we agreed to not do anything…”

Y/N eyed him suspiciously, “Ok…?”

“But I got you something.” Bucky admitted, digging into his inner coat pocket. She groaned and pressed her hands to her face. Giggles made her shoulders shake and he asked incredulously, “What?”

“Nothing! Nothing it’s just…” Y/N snorted and leaned down, digging through her purse on the ground. From inside, she pulled out a medium sized package wrapped in shinning paper with little penguins scattered on it and topped with a gaudy red bow, “I got you something too.”

Comically, Bucky’s eyes grew very round, and he held up a small red box with a tiny green bow. Then he chuckled, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all, “Guess promises are sometimes meant to be broken.”

Grinning, Y/N nodded, “Only for a good cause.” They had agreed to not buy presents for each other. Since their relationship was so up in the air and everything was new. Technically, they still weren’t exclusive, and they were just testing the waters. But she had gotten him something anyway. Strictly a ‘little-more-than-friends’ thing. No pressure. Just something small.

They exchanged gifts and Y/N pointed towards his, “You go first.” She ordered, and Bucky’s lip turned up into a half smile before he tore into the paper. Completely shredding it like you were supposed to open presents. The bow ended up tucked away in one of his shopping bags, along with the crumpled up paper.

“I thought it’d be easier to take with you on your trip.” Y/N offered as she watched Bucky turn the compact black kit in his hands. It was a professional, high quality art kit. Filled with pencils, charcoal, and everything else he’d need to sketch on the road. It had extra inside pockets for any supplies he might want to add, and it was roomy enough for him to fit a 9x12 personal sketchbook inside. Mostly waterproof too.

Bucky smiled up at her, a tender genuine one, “It’s perfect.” He praised. The air around them felt lighter again. The shadow of the argument fading away into the back. Up front, the driver started singing along with Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.

“Open it.” She gestured, and he raised his eyebrows before doing just that. Among all the neatly slotted pencils, he found a simple, thin sketchbook. It’d come with the kit. He opened it up and smiled when he found the first page. A simple sketch of mistletoe.

“To my frustrating, annoying, imperfect muse. Merry Christmas.” He read from underneath the drawing. The stupid smile making his eyes dance let her know that he got the joke. It was close to a perfect quote of what he’d written on that drawing he’d given her nearly two months ago. Bucky cooed, “How romantic.” He laughed when she glared at him and zipped the kit back up, “Thank you sweetheart. I love it.” He placed it carefully in a bag and leaned forward, kissing her cheek, “You’re turn.” His breath was hot on her cheek compared to the crisp night air.

Excited, Y/N took a breath and slowly slipped the ribbon off the box. She slipped it into her pocket and pulled the red lid off. A small awed noise escaped her as she took in the beautiful jewelry nestled inside. Among the white fabric, a shining silver hourglass necklace stared up at her. The bottom half was filled with little sparkling beads of sand that matched the color of her birthstone. Above it sat earrings with her birthstone winking up at her, “Their beautiful.” She uttered, carefully removing the necklace.

Bucky took it from her and she turned so he could place it around her neck. It was a little awkward with her scarf, but she combed her hair out of the way. He removed his gloves and the warmth of his fingers made her shiver just as much as the cold metal of his left hand against the nap of her neck. Holding the hourglass charm, she smiled in surprise when she realized the sand spilled to the other half when she tipped it upside down.

“I thought of you when I saw it in the market today.” Bucky admitted, “Couldn’t resist.”

She turned, watching him wiggle his gloves back on, “Thank you.” Her smile felt shy and her heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. Everything inside her was melty warm like liquid sunshine despite the winter weather.

Right then, she wanted to draw them. The carriage and horses. Capture the light in his eyes and the shining lights flickering around them. Inside her head, she could picture it. Could feel the emotions that she’d pour into it.

Bucky’s answering smile made her realize that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, “Merry Christmas doll.” He stated, and she leaned forward. Her eyes sparked mischievously when he tilted down to meet her.

Things weren’t perfect, but relationships rarely were. No matter how much Hallmark liked to depict them that way. And that was ok. They’d make it work. Together.

Their lips just barely touched when she tilted her mouth just out of reach and listened as he let out a shuddering breath. Then she whispered, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” And kissed his cheek.

Their gaze met, and she could see the fond laughter dancing in his eyes. Bucky scoffed, affection rumbling in his chest, “Tease.”

“Ass.”

Y/N squealed with laughter when he wrapped his arms around her and started tickling her.


	14. Your Favorite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the holidays are treating you all well! I've barely had a quiet moment to myself.  
> Buuut the fluff has returned and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it.  
> Thank you for all the support and comments, each one means the world to me <3

“Mr. Ramsey still hasn’t turned in my final grade.” Y/N whined, knee bouncing with anxious energy. Glancing up from her phone, she peered at Bucky across the table with a full-on pout. Lower lip poked out and eyes staring up at him through her lashes. She held her phone up as evidence, showing her other grades, “Everyone else has got all the finals in. But him.”

Unphased, he merely arched an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side just a little. With a huff, she scowled down at the screen, refreshing the page and then rolled her eyes. Sitting it aside, she picked her pencil back up and propped her chin on her palm, tapping the end of it against her bottom lip. The page of her sketchbook glared up at her with a half-done drawing of a tiger, the stripes not penciled in yet, and his eyes were still not exactly right.

For a Friday afternoon, the old diner was a ghost town. Peacefully quiet and filled with the smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies. There were only a few truck drivers at the breakfast bar, and a father with his two children at a table on the other side of the restaurant. Barely visible from where Y/N sat, but she occasionally heard a burst of giggles.

Luckily, her and Bucky were able to stake claim at their favorite booth near the jukebox. Before they’d even sat down, he went up to the vintage jukebox and paid for several songs. Every so often, he’d go back up and add more, keeping the music flowing. Gloria was ecstatic to see them again. All bearhugs and rapid-fire questions about recent events.

Since Thanksgiving, they’d made it a point to come eat there once every couple of weeks. It was still sunny outside, bright with all the snow from the night before. The light glared off all the white and reflected across the windows. It was pleasantly warm against her side. Golden sunlight speckled their table and mismatched drawing supplies sprawled out between them. They’d finished eating a little while ago and settled into warm drinks and sketching. Along with freshly baked gingerbread men.

When the sour expression on her face didn’t fade, Bucky snorted, arching an eyebrow at her, “You worried?” There was a familiar teasing lilt in his tone. It reflected in the playful glint in his eyes and coy smirk on his mouth. He was acting as if it were ridiculous that she was worried about her grade. Which only scrapped at her annoyance, sharpening it.

Charcoal in hand, his attention flitted from her to his worn sketchbook. But she knew he was listening. Strands of hair fell over his forehead and he pushed them back absentmindedly, his lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated. A detailed charcoal sketch of Gloria was forming bit by bit on the page.

“Well… I mean, it’s not really fair since he’s only basing my grade on the stuff I’ve handed in so far. Our big final isn’t even going to count.” She grumbled, and when he just shrugged a shoulder, she puffed out her cheeks indignantly and continued, “Plus, you saw my acrylic painting! It was a piece of shit.” Y/N finished with a swirl of her pencil, as if tacking on a final point in the air.

“Was not.” Bucky defended, carefully erasing one of his lines, “It was fine. Not your best, but come on, you can’t be great at everything.” The curling smirk of his full mouth had her flushing. It made her conflicted about whether she wanted to kiss that smirk off his face or throw something at him. Sunlight glittered in his wintery blues, and shadows highlighted the sharp cut of his features. Want started to overpower the annoyance inside her, and dropped her hands to her lap, fighting the urge to reach for him. Right then, she wanted to grab the collar of his shirt and drag him forward to meet her in a kiss over the table.

Under the table, she felt Bucky’s boot nudge her foot, and her leg stilled mid-bounce. His shoe tapped her boot once, and then twice. He smiled more sweetly at her, and it melted something tense inside her stomach. Even after the touch disappeared, she couldn’t help but feel a bit better.

“I’d settle for mediocre.” She grumbled half-heartedly, shaking her head to clear out the heated thoughts distracting her. That project really was her biggest concern. Her class with Ramsey was a special case since it was being taken outside of Orion’s typical set up. She was being graded on the work done within the semester timeline under Ramsey’s guidance. The final ‘centerpiece’ they’d be finishing up once Christmas break was over didn’t count. Still, she’d do it simply for the chance of having one more thing in their big Art Show.

“Semantics.” He snarked and she reached over, poking his forehead with her eraser. Gaze narrowed at her, he plucked the pencil from her fingers, confiscating it. Much to her displeasure.

 

> **Thursday, December 20 th **
> 
> Mischief danced through his eyes as he openly stared at her. Burning heat flushed across every bit of skin that his gaze trailed over. Like hands were tracing her skin, rather than just eyes. Casually, Bucky tucked his hands into his faded jean pockets and finally broke his stare from her own and focused back on her painting, “I love the subject of this. It’s from the snow storm, right?” A blush made her face too hot, but she kept her expression as checked as she could. Once again, he was teasing her.
> 
> What else was new?
> 
> “I took a picture of a street after the storm and based the painting off that.” Y/N explained. Her painting wasn’t the best she’d ever done, but she was proud of it. It was executed impressionistically. Broad strokes of acrylic, with only base details. Lots of contrast and vibrant colors. A street covered in white with most of the color coming from the buildings, and tall trees. But the focus of the painting was the lone figure in black next to a motorcycle.
> 
> She’d taken the photo when he wasn’t looking. Right before he drove her home from her one and only night at his apartment. Couldn’t pass up the contrast that his silhouette had against the snow, but now she was regretting it. Bucky was far too smug for her liking.
> 
> Luckily, it wasn’t likely that anyone else would realize he was the figure clad in black.
> 
> Mr. Ramsey’s voice broke through her thoughts, and he rubbed at the scruff on his cheek, studying her work, “It’s great to see you branching out into a different style.” His words became background static as she tried to take her focus off Bucky’s barely-there smirk. She wanted to try and draw it, but knew she’d never be able to get it just right. Like Mona Lisa.
> 
> But she’d happily drive herself crazy trying.

 

In a flurry of skirts, Gloria came over and refilled Bucky’s coffee, “Got any big plans for the holidays?” She asked with a wide, bright smile. The smell of sugar and chocolate wafted up from the deep turquois mug that she placed in front of Y/N. Whip cream nearly dripped over the sides.

“Going skiing over the New Year.” Bucky supplied, picking up his cup and taking a drink. Subtly, he flipped the page of his sketchbook, hiding the portrait from the waitress’ view. Not ready for her to see it. Amused, Y/N watched as he started wiping some of the charcoal dust across his fingers onto a napkin. Staining it grey and black. The charcoal mostly clung to his right hand, but he still cleaned a few smudges off the metal plates of his left.

Finger covered in cream, Y/N popped it into her mouth and hummed happily. There was a dusting of cinnamon on top of the whipped cream and it sparked wonderfully on her tongue. When Bucky met her eyes, she smiled and licked her lips. The tight tick in his jaw made her smirk. His stare lingered on her lips and it sent a pleasant thrill down her spine.

“What about you sweetie?” Gloria asked, smoothing out her apron. Her question broke the tension building up between them, and Y/N looked up at her. The waitress didn’t seem to even notice the moment that had just passed.

A bit embarrassed, she dropped her eyes to her sketchbook, and picked up a spare pencil from the table. Then she started scrapping idle swirls along the edge of the paper. Collecting her thoughts, she finally shrugged, “Just leaving to visit some family in Ohio tomorrow. Nothing too crazy.” She playfully glared at Bucky, “Not everyone gets to go on spectacular adventures.” He blinked innocently at her, leaning back in his seat with a smug smile.

Bumping her shoulder lightly, Gloria laughed and shook her head, “Tell me about it!” She sighed, “I’d love to go outta town, but my old man’s too stingy.” She sighed and gave a ‘what can you do’ look, “Let me know if you need anything.” She finished before departing, her heels clicked against the checkered floor, ponytail bouncing as she went.

A chime chirped up from Bucky’s phone of the table, and Y/N watched as he picked it up with a scowl. Rolling his eyes, he grumbled something she didn’t catch and quickly replied before dropping it back down beside his sketchbook. Annoyance radiated from him as he tugged down the sleeves of his black button up shirt, and then took the time to roll them neatly back up. Making sure they were even and perfect as he adjusted them to crook of his elbows. The gloves he’d worn into the diner were stuffed into the pockets of his coat and his metal hand reflected the light of the lamp above their booth.

Music trailed behind her from the jukebox. It was something older with a long guitar solo to start it out. One of the other regulars that hung out at the bar barked a loud laugh and Bucky bristled, flinching almost imperceptibly. Agitation had him glaring out the window, staring at some distant point she couldn’t discern. Metal fingers started rhythmically tapping against the tabletop, and his teeth abused his lower lip.

“Everything ok?” Y/N asked after she watched him for a few long seconds. He’d been texting someone frequently all through dinner. Of course, she respected his privacy, but now she was just getting concerned. Part of her was nervous to push. After their fight the night before, she understood him and his boundaries better. But she was also aware that she didn’t understand everything. There were other sensitive spots that she hadn’t tread on, and she was still figuring out where to pry and where to back off.

Still, she patiently let the silence drag on as he collected his thoughts. Propping her cheek up in her palm, she started dotting in ornamental detail to the swirls on the corner of her paper. Her eyes flickered over him, tracked the tightness in his shoulders and the way his fingers had stilled in their drumming rhythm. When he looked at her, she darted her eyes back to her paper.

For a few quiet moments, she ignored the prickling of his gaze across her skin. Waited for him to say something, but she couldn’t handle it for long. Concerned, she met his eyes, but didn’t move to speak first. Face impassive, Bucky stared at her, as if considering something. He was sitting perfectly still, and he tilted his head to the side, bangs falling across his forehead. After a couple long seconds, she raised her eyebrows in silent question. At that, he huffed a sigh and admitted, “Steve’s just been harassing me about seeing you again.” The words came out like he was really pained over it all.

Anxiety released like a coil inside her. Leaving room for relief and giddy excitement.

A slow building smile brightened her eyes, “Really? Aw, I miss him too.” Y/N laughed, pleased. Relaxed, she sat back in the booth, picking up her mug. Dropping her pencil, she cupped her drink in her hands and she took a long sip. The heat felt good as it worked its way down to her stomach.

Bucky shrugged, and his phone chimed again. He glanced at it but didn’t reply that time, “It’s just—” He cut himself off and rubbed at his face, voice muffled when he asked, “Do you think you might like to go on the ski trip with me?” He nervously stumbled over the last part and cleared his throat, baby blues flickering away. Shoulders bunched up, he crossed his arms over his chest. It was rare for him to be so tentative, and he sat back in his seat. His foot bumped against her own under the table and he winced, quickly readjusting his legs.

Surprise made her lips part, and she blinked once. Then twice. Suddenly shy, her mind started swirling in overtime. Go on the trip. That’d be an entire week. That was a huge leap in their relationship and—

“It’s ok if you don’t. I know it’s a lot, but I just wanted you to know that you could come. If you want. Tony said you’re more than welcome.” Bucky jumped back in, interrupting her train of thought. When he fell quiet again, he pressed his lips together, like he was trying to swallow down more words.

The worried edge to his voice and the light tinge of pink in his cheeks had her heartbeat slowing. Oxygen came easier to her lungs and a little smile tugged at her mouth, “Think I could handle the teasing?” Eyebrows arched, she pushed her sketchbook out of the way and leaned against the table, “Don’t know if I’m brave enough.” She sat her mug down, swinging her feet under the table. Referencing their first conversation about his friends from weeks ago made amusement pace sweetly through his expression.

Bucky snorted, tension leaking from his shoulders and he waved at hand dismissively, “No, I think they should be worried about putting up with you.” He snickered, “But I’ll protect you if they try anything.” Relaxing, he slumped further in his seat across from her. His foot nudged her own as he stretched out his legs. This time it was on purpose, if the small upturn of his lips meant anything.

In a simple t-shirt, and black button up, left open to show off the t-shirt’s design, he was kryptonite for her heart. He filled it out well, making the material stretch over his broad chest and strong arms. Just taking him in made her itch to draw him. Every single time.

Scoffing, Y/N rolled her eyes, “Worked so well for Steve’s girlfriend.” She stuttered over the word, sitting up straight, “I mean, we’re not really—”

“It’s alright.” Bucky cut in, eyes soft and sweet. There was laughter in his gaze, and it hinted on his mouth like a secret. His fingers carded through his hair, making it unrulier and more disheveled. But it seemed like he couldn’t stand for it to be in his eyes.

The words started to bubble up in her throat. Ready to finally come to life. They filled up her chest, making her heart grow too vast for her ribcage. Desperately she tried to hold them in on the tip of her tongue. She sat down her mug and curled her fingers together in her lap. Her nails pinched her skin as she fought with herself. But she ended up saying, “I want to be.” The admission had her flushing red all over and she ducked her head. Too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Twisting her hair over one shoulder, she tried to smooth it out. Suddenly self-conscious and aware of every fidgety thing her body did as nerves ate away at her insides.

This wouldn’t work. It wasn’t wrong of her to want this. There was nothing wrong with her saying what she wanted. And if she couldn’t be honest with him, then it wouldn’t work out anyway. Deliberately, she took a calming breath and steeled herself as she met his eyes, a challenge in her own as she declared quietly, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Bucky was silent for a minute, and she took in every detail. Lips parted, he looked like he’d lost all his words and might not even be breathing. He swallowed and licked his lips, mouth opening again, only to stop. Still, no words came. After another try, he quirked up a crooked smile, “Don’t you think we’re a little old for that?” He tried to joke but it fell flat. Didn’t reach his eyes and the smile didn’t last long. It burnt out when he met her gaze, and his expression fell into something apprehensive and maybe even a little vulnerable.

Taking the familiar jabbing banter in a stride, she decided to try and play along, “Come on, humor me.” Y/N relaxed into a soft smile despite the tight vice the moment had around her heart. She tilted her head, and gestured between them, “Hasn’t this been working for you?” It’d been two weeks since they decided to try out whatever was happening between them. Their date yesterday had gone better than fantastic. Even with the argument. It only made sense.

Tense, she brought her hand up and felt the heavy pendant against her chest. The hourglass. To her, it felt symbolic of their time together. No matter how much time they’d end up having, she’d cherish it. Ocean blue eyes fell to her fingers and the necklace.

Then the vulnerability bloomed into a soft expression of sincerity, “It’s more than working.” He agreed, tripping over the middle of the sentence and clearing his throat again. He met her challenging stare with something more serious than before. Like he was considering her words, not just brushing them aside. Shifting closer, he propped up on the table, holding his elbows as he studied her. Sketchbook pushed aside, and his coffee forgotten.

“Then can’t we just give it a name?” Y/N asked, and before he could object, she admitted, “It’ll make me feel better.” It might be childish, or insecure for her to need a label for them. What they had was special, and she wished she could just trust that he wasn’t going anywhere… But she’d be happier if she knew he cared about her enough to call her his. And let her call him hers.

Slowly, Bucky let out a long breath and smirked at her, “You’ll be the death of me.” She tentatively smiled, hope burning like an ember, and he continued, “Alright fine, starting this very minute, we are dating.” He bowed his head, as if conceding to her, and picked up his phone, “Friday, December 21st. We are a ‘item’.” He did air quotes and she rolled her eyes at his antics. Still, she smiled like he’d just offered her the entire universe in a snow globe.

“Exclusively?” Y/N asked, grinning from ear to ear. Without really meaning to, her hand reached for his across the table. She brushed aside art supplies. Pencils and pens clattered and rolled haphazardly across the tabletop.

“Exclusively.” He confirmed earnestly, pushing his phone aside. His eyes flickered down, and he brought his hand forward till their fingers touched. They laced together on top of the table. His thumb brushed across the side of her pinky.

“Can I call you honeybear now?” It took everything she had to keep a straight face, and Bucky scowled at her. Eyebrows furrowed, and nose wrinkled in distaste.

Instantly, he shook his head, “Not if you want to keep breathing.” The dry lilt of his voice reminded her of crisp autumn leaves and the whispering of crunching gravel. And the threat just made her insides hum even happier. This strong, intimidating, and lethal man would never lay a finger on her. And she knew it. Even if he could hurt her, kill her, with just one blow, she knew he never would. She wasn’t afraid of him.

And that trust meant something. Something profoundly powerful.

Pressing her lips together, she managed to get out seriously, raising her eyebrow, “Buckyboo?” At the look on his face her lips wobbled with a smile and she squeezed his hand to keep him from snatching it away. His fingers twitched, like he’d just been about to withdraw, but when she tightened her hold, he didn’t pull away.

“What the fuck—” He snorted an incredulous laugh, still shaking his head even as she cut him off.

“My stag?”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

At this point, Y/N fell into a fit of hysterical laughter. She covered her mouth to try and hush herself. The look Bucky gave her, like she was insane, only made her giggle harder. Shaking her head, she snickered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Couldn’t resist.” She snorted, stifling her laughter behind her fingers again.

“Got it out of your system…?” He questioned sarcastically, and she nodded, pressing her lips together. He picked up his coffee, the metal and glass clinking quietly, and took a drink, “Good cause that was just terrible. I mean, Buckyboo? What are we, teenagers? We’re not going to be that kind of couple, right?”

Something sweet fluttered in her, hearing him refer to them as a ‘couple’. That’s what they were now, and it relaxed something tight in her that she’d been carrying around ever since they agreed to go on a date. Amused, she shook her head, “No, we’re not going to be that kind of couple. With the gooey pet names. I’ll stick to the basics. Sound good babe?”

It didn’t seem possible for him to glower at her any harder, but somehow, she’d managed to make him do it, “I don’t think I like that one babe.” He stressed ‘babe’ flatly and she wrinkled her nose at the endearment.

“No. Definitely not.” Y/N shook her head, ran a free hand through her hair and blew out a breath, “Well I guess that’s just going to have to be a work-in-progress.”

Bucky snorted into his cup, voice muffled behind the brim, “Like everything else.”

“Exactly.” She grinned. After a moment of peaceful quiet fell, she licked her lips and asked, “Do you think it’s a good idea for us to go on a trip together so soon?” The thought niggled at her brain, making her overthink every possible thing that could go wrong.

Bucky pursed his lips in thought, and shrugged, “We don’t have to share a room. Tony’s got plenty.” His thumb tapped at her pinky in time with the drumbeat filling the air from the jukebox. It was cute. And his eyes left her, glancing over towards the door when it chimed, letting in another customer. Cool air displaced the heat and blew through the open door. It nipped at her neck and she shivered.

“Do you not want to?” Y/N asked, kicking her foot out and lightly bumping his shin. Bucky knocked their shoes together, expression relaxing into something less serious. It was becoming habitual for them to knock into each other when they wanted attention. Hips, knees, hands, and feet were all fair game.

“Do you not wanna?” He shot back wryly, playful mischief coming to life like a flickering candle behind his eyes.

Dropping her head back, she groaned like he was the most annoying being in the world, “I don’t know.” Ignoring his smirk, she peeked at her phone, she noticed the time. She still had some things to pack for her trip. Begrudgingly, she released his hand and subtly started gathering up her art supplies. She had to pick through their pile and try to remember which pencil had been her own. Which eraser actually belonged with her stuff. Everything had gotten mixed together.

Bucky had driven them there on his bike and planned to drop her home. As she stuffed her pens away, she continued, “I don’t think I’d mind.” She shyly admitted, “As long as you don’t snore.” The last jab was more to break up the tension than anything else.

Surprised, Bucky chuckled, taking her hint and packing up too, “Then we’re doomed.” He fell quiet, eyebrows pinched as he thought about something, and after he closed his sketchbook he offered, “Why don’t we see how we feel when we get there? If you want to go, we can figure it out.”

Hesitantly excited, Y/N nodded, “I’d like that.” When he raised his eyebrows in question, she smiled and shrugged one shoulder, “Guess we’re trying something new for the New Year. Fitting right?”

Softly, Bucky smiled, “Steve will be thrilled.” He laughed quietly and stood up, leaving a tip for Gloria. As they made their way out of the diner, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas along the way, Bucky threw his arm over her shoulder. They’d parked a block away, off the main street, but the walk was nice. In the fading light of the afternoon, she took a crisp breath and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Then strolled close to him, keeping out of the way of the crowd.

“Can’t wait to meet all your friends. Even if they torture me.” Y/N mused, and Bucky snorted.

“They’re dying to meet you. The first girl I’ve ever brought home.” He squeezed her in a half hug. It didn’t pass her attention that he referred to his friends as ‘home’. A cabin that he didn’t live at, but the people there probably made it a home for him.

Then he cleared his throat, casually stating, “I’ve actually got some other news.” They rounded the corner at the end of the block, and she could make out his motorcycle just a few yards away.

Curious, Y/N peered up at him and frowned. It’d taken him the entire afternoon to bring up this ‘news’. It had to be important, “Ya?”

“I was going to tell you after the New Year, but I’ll be telling everyone else on the trip. Well, Steve already knows, but…” He sighed, breath puffing out like smoke. She let him sort his thoughts, just glancing between him and the crowded sidewalk. Finally, he continued, “My therapist gave me the ‘all clear’ to apply for the NYPD. I’m going to start the application process sometime in January.” He looked a mixture of nervous and excited. Eyes lit up, but his smile was timid.

“That’s great!” Y/N exclaimed, and his smile grew sheepish.

“Ya well, Steve’s been on my ass about it since we got back, but I had my own stuff to work through. Didn’t know if it’d be such a good idea.” Bucky explained, and she nodded, understanding. The panic attacks and PTSD had to make it a hard field to go into.

Biting her bottom lip, she asked, “Think you’ll be ok? It’s a dangerous job.” Despite being vague, she knew he got her drift. Without her having to elaborate. He released her when they got to the motorcycle and handed her a helmet.

“Nothings set in stone. I’m sure I’ll figure it out before I start. The academy takes 6 months and they gotta hire me before that. They might not even take my ass.” Bucky stated, his self-deprecating smile made her scowl.

Habitually, she fastened the helmet and retorted, “Well they’d be idiots not to.”

Bucky shrugged, “It’d be nice to work with Stevie again.” His smile became sincerer at that thought, “And I need to figure something out. Can’t make a career out of art classes and a part time bakery job.”

Y/N climbed onto the bike behind him and wrapped her arms tight around him as it roared to life. Then she spoke loudly over it, “I think you can handle it!” Bucky dropped his right hand and squeezed hers on his stomach in silent thanks.

 

 

 

Discarded clothes and art supplies littered the floor around her bed. A giant red suitcase sat open and overflowing on top of the mattress, and a smaller, matching duffle bag rest half-full beside it. Mismatched bathroom necessities were stuffed into it. Bucky let out a low whistle when Y/N turned on the kitchen light, and then the standalone lamp in her bedroom. Absentmindedly, she discarded her coat onto the chair by her desk and unwound her scarf.

“Looks like a tornado wrecked the place while you were gone.” He teased, kicking off his boots next to her own by the door. Dismissively, she rolled her eyes. Around her bed, she began to pick up some of the stuff. A couple shirts, pair of pants, and then a bra. Of course, she was a bit embarrassed at the shape of her apartment. But it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen the place in disarray.

“Just put on some music.” Y/N shot back, clothes piled in her arms. She walked over to the dresser and started putting everything away. It was quiet for a minute, but then she heard the speakers crackle to life, and a song by the Cab reverberated off the walls. Bucky strolled around the bookshelf divider and stopped by the only window near her bed, opening the blinds. Natural sunlight lit up the room better than any of her lamps and haloed around him when he turned back to her. As she put away all the stuff she’d decided not to take, Bucky took his time folding and organizing the clothes in her suitcase.

“You don’t have to—”

“You’ll never be able to fit everything in here like this.” He stated matter-of-factly, finishing up a pile of shirts. A soft smile tugged at her lips as her insides fluttered with warm butterflies.

She passed by him, a couple books tucked under her arm, and placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. When he looked over at her, she pressed a quick kiss on his lips. Arched up on her tiptoes and using his shoulder for balanced. Bucky chuckled at the action and caught the beltloop of her jeans as she started to turn away. Before she got very far, he tugged her closer and let his hand slid over into the back pocket of her jeans and kissed her harder. The taste of his mouth and warmth of his body was so distracting. Y/N found herself melting against him like chocolate under the sun. The books in her arms dug into her chest as he held her tighter. And when his tongue brushed over her bottom lip, she just barely managed to pull back with a shake of her head.

“I’ll never finish getting ready if we keep this up.” Her voice sounded breathy and full of the want she was trying to deny. Almost sultry and so intimately quiet. She cleared her throat.

“C’mon sweetheart.” Bucky cooed, kissing her jaw when she avoided his mouth. Shivers trailed across her spine and made goosebumps cover her arms and thighs, “Just a few more minutes.” He urged, teeth scrapping the racing pulse of her neck. The deep, reverberating growl of his voice struck deep into her core and made her breath catch. She went soft and pliant against him for a second. Time reduced to a crawl and every nerve ending fixated on the path his tongue traced sinfully up to the soft spot behind her ear.

Then a car horn sliced through the air from outside and she forced her lungs to take in a breath. Shakily, Y/N used her free hand to pry a few spare inches between them, even with his solid grip on her rear, “Barnes if you’re just going to distract me than why are you here?” Every word was barely plucked from the heated fog he’d seared her brain to. She tried to keep her tone stern, but pure sunlit joy radiated from inside her. And her laughter danced in every bit of the sentence. This was an entirely new level of banter and playing for them to enjoy. And she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. But she had packing to do, and if he kept looking at her like that, they might fall into the bed and never get anything done again.

Bucky pouted, accentuating the dimple on his chin, “Cause you’re gonna be gone for a week.” He stated simply, almost petulantly. His hand left her pocket and slipped under the hem of her shirt. It was warm on her back as he traced irritatingly distracting circles across her spine.

When she stepped back further, he let her go, and she smiled more, “Pack, then kiss.” Y/N offered, and he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, m’am.”

They worked in silence for a while. Bucky organized the things she threw on the bed that needed to be packed, while she put away everything else that had been dragged out unnecessarily. The quiet gave her mind time to wander. Which was never a good thing.

Mindlessly, she gathered up her bare minimum travel art supplies, putting a few sketchbooks into a small backpack. Her eyes drifted across the bed to where Bucky was focused on getting all her hair and makeup products to fit into her small bathroom bag. A struggle all by itself. Biting her bottom lip, she spoke up as casually as she could, “Remember back on Halloween?” The sudden question had Bucky looking up at her in surprise.

He blinked and then pursed his lips before reaching up to the collar of his t-shirt. Jaw tight, he pulled it down just enough to show the thin, pale scar starting at his collarbone, “Don’t think I could forget it.” Casually, he released it and wrinkled his nose, “Those guys better hope I never see them again. I’ll kick their asses a second time just on principle.”

Unable to help it, Y/N giggled at the protective overlay in his words. Then the reason she’d brought it up swam back into the forefront of her thoughts and she continued, laughter gone, “When you broke that guy’s hand, it was almost like you weren’t even there.” Bucky’s shoulders grew rigid, and he seemed way too focused on zipping up the bag under his hands.

When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “Does that happen often?”

Bucky shook his head and picked up the bag. He turned away from her and quietly took it to where she was putting all her stuff, on the kitchen counter nearest to the front door. She followed him, “Bucky?” She pressed, nervous from his quiet.

Of course, she’d known this would be a sensitive subject. There was a reason they’d barely spoken about that night since it’d happened. It probably fell under the list of things he wasn’t ready to talk about, but he’d just said he was thinking about joining the police force. And she couldn’t help but be worried. Couldn’t help but want to understand what he was going through.

Dropping down her bag, Bucky turned and leaned against the counter. Arms crossed over his chest, he stared down at the carpet and let out a long, slow breath. All his walls were up, and she stopped in front of him, waiting to see if he’d let her in. This was so frustrating. If they couldn’t talk about things, how would this relationship ever work out? She was willing to be patient with him, and work at it, but he’d have to work at it with her.

“When I first got back, it happened more often.” Bucky confided begrudgingly, eyes nervously meeting her own, “It’s like blacking out, but I remember it after. Everything just turns into instinct and it’s dangerous because I don’t really have control over myself.” His fists clenched under his arms where he hugged himself.

“But it doesn’t happen much now?” Y/N asked hesitantly, taking a step closer. Gently, slowly, she reached for him and touched his right upper arm. He watched as her hand ran down to his elbow, then she placed her other hand against his chest.

“No.” He admitted, “Just when I get too stressed. Or scared. But only extreme circumstances.” His arms relaxed under her touch, and he let them drop to his sides. Still, his left hand clenched into a fist at his side. When she reached for his right hand, he loosely held onto her fingers.

“If that happens while you’re working…” She trailed off when she felt the muscles of his chest grow tight under her touch.

Eyes closed, he grimaced and clenched his jaw, “I know.” The words were bit out, frustrated, but he brought his hand up to tenderly cupped over her own on his chest and he sighed, “That’s why I’ve waited this long. Until my therapist gave me the ok. And I’m going to continue seeing her through it. She won’t let me go through with it if it turns out to be too much.”

Bucky unclenched his metal hand and relaxed just a bit more. If she focused, she could sense the steady beat of his heart under her fingers. His words made her feel little better and she nodded, “What about panic attacks?” In all the time they spent together, she’d only ever seen the one. But still, it’d been enough to vividly stick in her memories.

Antsy, he let go of her hand and carded his fingers through his hair, making it stick up, “Those barely happen anymore, and I’ll be taking every precaution to deal with it.” Tilting his head down, he met her eyes and cupped her cheek, “Don’t worry ok?” His tone softened, and he stooped down so they were eye level, “I’ll be ok.”

“Sorry.” Y/N winced, fingers twisting together nervously between them. Calluses scrapped her cheek when she subtly nuzzled against his palm.

“Don’t be.” Bucky insisted, shaking his head, “Don’t be sorry for caring about my messed-up ass.” His comment made a little smile twitch at the corner of her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tucked her against his chest, kissing the top of her head, “Don’t ever be sorry for that.”

Being embraced by him had her nerves simmering down and floating away. Y/N burrowed against his chest and hugged him back, taking a deep breath. His scent enveloped her, and she let her eyes fall close. Just enjoying being held by him. This was quickly becoming her favorite place.

Bucky’s chin rested on top of her head, and his chest rumbled against her ear as he confessed, “I am scared about one thing.”

“What’s that?” She asked. Y/N wanted to look at him but had a feeling that he was only talking because she couldn’t. That maybe holding her made him braver and relaxed his tongue.

Rhythmically, Bucky’s hand ran down her back, and then up again, the metal one loose around her shoulders. His hand was cold on her arm, but she didn’t care. He sighed, “That I’ll fail and end up with no future. Again.” She frowned, but before she could ask, he continued, “I hate not having something worth working for. Being aimless. I’m not good at much. Being a police officer is probably the only thing I might be ok at. And if I fuck it up I…” He trailed off.

Instantly, Y/N squeezed him tighter, “You’ve got more to offer than you know.” She tilted her head so that her chin pressed to his chest and she craned her neck to look up at him. He relaxed his grip around her but didn’t release her. Just let her rest against him and met her eyes, “Even if it doesn’t work out, you’ll figure something else out to do.”

The hand stroking through her hair stilled, and Bucky’s eyebrows creased. Unsure, he pressed his lips into a thin line, “How do you know?”

“Cause while you see the worst in yourself, I see the other stuff.” A smile made its way to her mouth at that, and her words danced in a playful way as they left her. Fingers curled in the back of his shirt, she stood up straighter, their chests still pressed together.

“What other stuff?” His lips quirked into a small crooked smile. Uneven and charming as his anxiety started to visibly melt off him. Right before her eyes.

Impishly, Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, “Just stuff.”

Bucky pouted, and prodded, “And when will you tell me about all this great stuff I apparently have?”

With a shit eating grin, she promised smugly, “When you need to hear it.”

Dramatically, head falling back, Bucky groaned loudly but it ended in a snorting laugh, “God I don’t know why I put up with you!” His shout echoed off the walls of her apartment. Snickering, she stood up on her tiptoes so she could kiss his cheek.

“Cause I’m your favorite.” Y/N grinned wider and then squealed when he grasped just below her thighs and easily lifted her up off the ground.

“Oh are you now?” He asked incredulously. Her feet kicked, seeking solid ground. Then he tickled her sides and bounced her higher against his chest. Legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, she giggled uncontrollably and clung to his shoulders like a monkey.

“Yes! I know so!” She shrieked in terror when he swung her around, dipping her so she nearly hung upside down off him. Her stomach was somewhere in her throat, and her heart beat a native drum in her ears.

“You sure?” He smirked, hand supporting her lower back and holding under her right thigh.

Giggles subsiding, she beamed up at him, ignoring the way her stomach twisted in fear of falling. He’d never drop her. Her hair brushed the floor below her. In order to meet his eyes, she had to crane her neck, “Yep cause being your girlfriend automatically makes me your favorite.” She quipped matter-of-factly. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she held herself up.

Bucky’s smile softened, and he closed the space between them and kissed her. As their lips parted and brushed together, he pulled her upright. He broke the kiss for just a breath, only going far enough away to muse, “Guess that makes me your favorite too. Being your boyfriend at all.”

Her response came easy as breathing, “Obviously.”

Then he kissed her again and she thought she might be flying. Or falling. But there wasn’t really a difference between the two anymore.


	15. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this chapter came out a little late cause I'm working with a new beta reader. Hopefully I'll keep working with her, if I can write ahead of schedule lol
> 
> Please take note of the added tag.  
> There is a mention of past rape and abuse in this chapter, and it will come up again in future chapters. If that triggers you, than please skip it.  
> I'll put *** before and after any scenes that mentions it in a more graphic fashion.  
> It will likely not get any more graphic then what's mentioned in this chapter, and will be spoken about in past tense in future chapters, unless I find a flashback to be necessary for the story.  
> As a survivor myself, I promise to try and handle this as realistically as possible based on my experiences, and people who have shared their own with me.
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting! I hope you enjoy the chapter <3

**December 23**

From downstairs, Y/N could hear her mom calling her name. Every syllable echoed up the narrow stairwell like the cry of an infernal crow. It was late Sunday morning. And she figured that she couldn’t hide much longer. Golden sunlight flowed in from the main window across from the foot of the bed. It was deceivably sunny out with clear skies and little wind to speak up. They’d arrived at her grandparents’ house the night before. It had taken her forever to settle down and fall asleep. Even after she shut her eyes, she’d found herself tossing and turning most of the night.

Slumped on her bed, Y/N stared down at the envelope in her hands. It was off-white and battered. Her name smudged on the front like a thumb had run over it before the ink dried. Slowly, she stood up off the bed and tucked it back into her art bag under the window. Everything was still packed up among her bags, and she had no intentions of changing that any time soon. Irritation made her empty hands clench when her mom’s voice broke through the quiet of the make-shift attic like a whip.

First a quiet knock on the door, then she heard it creak open, “Are you up yet?” Her mom leaned against the doorframe in a long eggshell blue sweater dress over black tights, “Your aunt and uncle will be here for breakfast soon.” She eyed Y/N’s clothes with an arched brow, “Are you really going to wear that?”

Exasperated, Y/N glared back at her mom. As she crossed the room back to the bed, her footsteps were muffled by a plush, old carpet overtop the cold wooden floor. Taking up a brush from her bathroom bag, she started running it through her tangled hair, “What’s wrong with it?” She glanced down at herself. Jeans and a thick black sweater. Comfortable and warm. Her grandfather hated wasting money on heat. Everyone’s toes had to chance frostbite in the house. If the pipes weren’t freezing, then the heat stayed low. No one touched the thermostat other than him.

“Why don’t you wear that Christmas sweater your grandma got you last year?” She persuaded, lips pursed into a fine line. Her fingers tapped impatiently on her arm as she watched Y/N toss the brush back down. Annoyance prickled underneath her skin at the feeling of her mother’s heavy gaze crawling across her skin like the feelers of an insect.

In the tense silence, soft humming floated up from downstairs. Along with the smell of frying bacon. Grandma must be in the kitchen then. The doorbell rang from the living room. Again. And then again. The dinging was piercing even from far up above it all.

Sheepish, Y/N shook her head and took out her travel sketchbook, avoiding her mother’s eyes. It was unlikely that she’d have time for it. But the moment they stopped paying her attention, she’d sneak to a quiet corner and draw. Out of sight, and out of mind.

“I didn’t bring it.” She admitted, much to her mother’s dismay. It wasn’t just that she didn’t bring it, she’d conveniently lost the monstrosity of wool a while ago. Pencil case in hand, she sat it beside her sketchbook, and zipped her bag back up.

Far from pleased, her mother huffed and stepped back into the hall, “Please just be down in a bit. Your cousins are looking forward to seeing you.” She stopped, already halfway turned to leave, and took a single step back. There was an awkward pause where she cleared her throat, then asked softly, “Are you feeling alright?” Concern flickered to life in her features, making her eyebrows draw low and the crinkles in her eyes deepen.

No, she wasn’t, but she didn’t really know what to say. Y/N tried to be as honest as she could with her mother, but she didn’t want to worry her. Especially when there was little that her mom could do. It only made things more complicated because it’d been her mom that had given her that letter. The one that brought all her old fears and nightmares to the forefront of her thoughts.

“I’m alright.” She offered, and when her mom gave her a knowing look, she managed a watery smile, “I will be.” Fingers twisting the sleeves of her sweater against her palms, she barely held that weak tilt of her lips. Luckily, it was enough to make her back off. Eyes softening, her mom smiled. A pretty expression even with the laugh lines and crow’s feet on the edges of her eyes.

“Good, let me know if you need anything. At all.” She declared, giving one last pointed look, before finally leaving. The rhythmic beat of her footsteps faded away as she made her way down the steep attic stairs.

The moment the door clicked shut, Y/N’s shoulders drooped, and she let out a long sigh. It felt like she was weary to the bone. Like pitch black sand filled up all the empty places inside of her and pulled her down. Slowly, she sank onto the bed next to her suitcase and took out her phone from her back pocket.

From downstairs, she could hear her parents greeting her aunt and uncle. Everyone laughed at something her little cousins cheered. Ignoring them, she flipped through her contacts and hovered over Bucky’s name.

They’d talked a little since she left Saturday. She let him know she’d made it safe, and he’d sent her a good morning earlier. After a second of hesitation, she passed his name and scrolled down to Peter. Taking in a quick breath, she hit call. He should be up by now. Right then, she just needed to talk to someone. Someone who knew.

“Hey! What’s up? Make it to No-Where Ohio yet?” Peter’s laughter was a spark of light in her heart. It danced warm and sweet inside her and made her brighten.

A surprised, weak laugh left her, and she curled up with her elbows on her knees, “Ya, got in last night.”

There was a moment of silence, and she could imagine the slight frown on Peter’s lips as he heard the tremor of pain in her words. After a second, he gently asked, “Are you alright?” The heater kicked on and stirred up some dust bunnies across the floor. No one ever used the attic for anything but storage, and overflow guests. So, dust bunnies ruled up here.

It felt different than when her mom asked. More comforting because he knew her better. There was a promise that he could help make it ok. Because he understood her. With another shaky laugh, she took in a harsh breath, “Not really.” She let her head rest on her free hand, covering her eyes. Today would be a bad day for makeup, but she’d already put on mascara.

“What happened? Family giving you a hard time?” Peter guessed, trying to keep his voice light and playful. The warmth in it made her feel just a bit better.

Huffing, she shook her head, “I wish. No, they’ll be doing that once I go downstairs.” She rubbed her eyes. They felt raw and she hadn’t even cried yet. Finally, she bit back the anxious nausea building up inside her far enough to admit, “Jason sent me a letter.”

Instantly, Peter’s tone rose three octaves at least, “He what? What did it say? Did you see him?”

Swallowing around the desert in her throat, she grimaced, “No. No he—” Y/N stared up at the bare oak ceiling, counting the rafters to keep herself calm, “He dropped it off with mom. She gave it to me yesterday.” Teeth clenched together to keep the shaking down, she forced in another breath, “I haven’t read it yet.”

Peter waited a second, to see if she’d say anything else, then gently prodded, “Why not?”

Frustrated, Y/N glared at her bag under the window. To the pocket she’d put the damned letter in. It was speckled innocently with sunlight and her words tasted like bitter copper on her tongue, “I don’t know if I even care to see what he has to say.” That was a lie. Or a half-lie. She did care, but she didn’t want to care. Half of her wanted to read it, but the other half was scared to even give her ex’s words a chance to sway her emotions. Cause of course he would try to say something to hurt her, or make her feel guilty, or sympathetic towards his situation.

“Guess that makes sense.” Peter hedged, and she heard Aunt May calling something in the background. After a second, he called back, voice muffled, “Be there in a minute!”

Guilt made her bite her bottom lip hard, and she tried to make her tone lighter, “If you’re busy, it’s ok.”

Instantly, he retorted, phone speaker crackling at the conviction in his voice, “No! It’s alright, she just wanted me to know breakfast was ready.” He let out a sigh and asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N let her eyes fall close as she tried to focus her thoughts, focus on the conversation and not all the buzzing ‘what ifs’. She curled her toes on the bedframe, the metal cold on her bare feet, “He told mom that the letter was an apology. That he just wanted to make peace or something.”

Peter snorted indignantly, “Bastard doesn’t deserve it.”

Reluctantly, the corner of her mouth twitched up, “He isn’t getting it.” She promised, “I’m glad he’s better, but that doesn’t mean I have to forgive him.”

“Do you really think he’s better?” He asked, skepticism thick on his tongue. Y/N shrugged and winced when she heard her grandmother call up to her this time.

“No—” She hesitated and stood up off the bed, “I mean… I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in over a year. Maybe he’s better, but it doesn’t change anything.” Part of her said that for him, to ease his concerns, but she needed to remind herself of it too. To remember that nothing had changed, and he still wasn’t coming back into her life. Even if he sent 100 apology letters.

“It doesn’t.” Peter agreed firmly, “Look, if he tries to bother you, you know I’m here. I’ll borrow some gadgets from Mr. Stark’s lab and pay him a visit if I have to.” He sounded so angry and vehement that she couldn’t help but giggle.

Bundle of socks in hand, she held her cell between her shoulder and ear, so she could put them on. Balancing on one foot, she hopped to keep standing and hastily slid on the striped sock, “I’d kill to see that.” Y/N mused, “You’ll have to let me tag along.”

Peter agreed whole-heartedly. There was a lull in the conversation and she got on her other sock. Then started to dig around for her makeup bag. Before she could change the subject, he asked, tone dropped to gentle concern again, “Does Bucky know?”

During her flight, she’d sent a few messages to the couple of important people who needed to hear that her and Bucky were officially dating. Peter and Darcy were both ecstatic for her. Biting her lip, she picked up one of her favorite necklaces and slipped it over her head, “Well it hasn’t really come up yet.”

Adjusting her hair, she stood in front of an old ornamental vanity mirror and scrutinized her reflection. Her eyes were tired, and she seemed paler than normal. Blatant signs to how well she’d slept the night before. Mascara smudged under her eyes, making the bags worse. Taking out a makeup wipe, she leaned close until her nose nearly brushed the glass and started to fix it.

“Don’t you think he’ll notice something’s up if Jason doesn’t let this go? Or that you’re upset?” Peter asked, and she felt a spark of spite bloom like poison in her chest. Leaking between her ribs and into her tongue.

“He doesn’t have to.” Y/N grit her teeth, attempting to keep the bite out of her tone. This anger wasn’t her friend’s fault. It was situational, and she didn’t want to take it out on him, “This has nothing to do with him. Jason can shove his apology up his ass and leave me out of it. And Buck’ll know when it matters. When I want him to. Not just cause I’m stupid and upset over nothing.” She didn’t want to worry him. Burden him with it.

Cause it was nothing. Just a letter. Really there was no reason for her to be this upset over it. Jason hadn’t shown up in front of her. He hadn’t approached her or talked to her. It was nothing.

Peter stated her name deliberately slow, and kindly corrected her, “You’re not stupid.”

“I’ve got to go.” She cut in briskly, letting out a breath, and it was true. If she waited much longer, her mom would drag her down by her ear, “Thank you. Really. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

“Please just think about telling him.” Peter added hastily, “I think you’d feel better.”

“I’ll think about it.” Y/N offered, but she didn’t mean it. She just wanted her friend to not worry so much.

After she hung up the phone, she adjusted her hourglass necklace on her chest and tried to find a smile. If she didn’t, the day would be even longer.

 Unfortunately, her reflection disappointed her with a frown.

**December 24 th**

“Will you draw me?”

Y/N glanced up from her spot on the enormous and plush armchair in her grandparent’s den. After lunch, she’d managed to sneak away to there, leaving the majority of her family strewn between the kitchen and living room. The house was spacious and huge, but it was slowly starting to feel small. Between her grandparents, parents, and two sets of aunts and uncles and their kids, there was little to no oxygen left to spare. Everyone had meandered in over the course of the morning and afternoon, preparations for their big Christmas Eve dinner were well underway.

Four of her cousins played together, running in and out of the house. Their unending energy made her even more grateful that she was an only child. She didn’t have the patience for this, especially in the mood she was in. Sarah, who was a year older than her, had graciously taken over the role of babysitter, and had managed to entertain the other three. One was Sarah’s own younger brother, Johnny, and the other two were twin girls, Jewel and Emma.

It was Emma, age 10, who peered over the worn armrest of Y/N’s chair at her sketchbook. She’d been drawing a robin, visible through the frosted window on a thicket of branches. Jewel popped up by her sister, and smiled, “Me too!” Little hands rested on the armrest, and they stood on their tiptoes, leaning into her space. Jewel’s cheek pressed against her shoulder, so she could get a better look.

This wasn’t the first time that anyone had asked her to draw them once they realized she was an artist. Probably wouldn’t be the last. The only thing missing was the-

“Did you really draw that?” Johnny asked, age 13, when he came up to her other side. The robin flew away when his shadow passed over the window. He was already going through a growth spurt and leaned down to blink at the paper.

Snorting, she drawled, “Course I did.” Then Y/N looked at the twins and raised her eyebrows, “Think you can sit still long enough?” She really had nothing better to do. It would at least make her parents happy to see her interacting with them. Especially her mother, who was starting to get chronically worried over her. With how quiet and withdrawn she’d been over the last couple days.

Sarah strolled through the open entryway, two pairs of gloves in hand, “Hey! I thought you wanted to go build a snowman?” She waved the twins’ gloves at them, but the little girls were no longer interested.

“Y/N’s gonna draw us!” Jewel squealed, clapping her hands together and making her sparkly pink nail polish glitter in the wintry blue afternoon light.

Emma nodded enthusiastically, curly brown hair bouncing, “Can you make us fairies??”

Bored and annoyed at the sudden change of activity, Johnny scoffed. Then he rolled his eyes and stalked towards the door, “Well I’m goin’ outside.” He took his beanie out of his coat pocket and tugged it over his shaggy blond head.

Y/N blinked up at Sarah’s pretty smile. Her cousin was classically beautiful with a petite body, and pixie-like features. If she were being honest, she’d always been a bit jealous of her. They weren’t very close, but she could see the amusement radiating from her cousin. Delicately, Sarah shrugged, getting ready to leave. Apparently, her turn of babysitting was over.

But Y/N called, a bit panicked, “I could draw you outside! While you built your snowman.” She closed her sketchbook and untucked her legs from underneath her, sitting up.

The twins cheered, scurrying over to Sarah and snatching their gloves. A matching set of pink and purple. They brushed past her and went to go get their coats. It’d be a bit of a pain to draw them outside, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck with their wild energy alone.

 

 

Her fingertips were numb and the pencil in her hand might be frozen there. Despite the golden afternoon sun, the air was frigid. Like the heat couldn’t pierce through the layer of ice hanging in the atmosphere. Snow covered the yard and clung to the fence separating her grandparents’ corner lot from the road and their nearby neighbors. The single towering oak in the yard seemed to be nearly laying on the house, branches heavy with ice.

Y/N quietly sat on the front steps of the house, unable to feel anything other than the biting of the wind on her ears and nose. Across the yard, near the road where more people could appreciate their work, her cousins put the finishing touches on the snowman. A carrot swiped from the kitchen, expertly chosen pebbles from the driveway, and a reluctantly relinquished scarf from her grandmother’s closet.

Drawing finished, she balanced her sketchpad on her knees as she attempted to take a photo. Every swipe of her numb fingers was clumsy, and she bit her bottom lip, trying to focus. Wind swept through the yard, carrying with it the sound of a barking dog two houses over and Jewel squealed when Johnny pegged her with a well-aimed snowball.

Somehow, she’d gotten them all in it, surrounding the snowman. Jewel and Emma got delicate fairy wings and pointed ears as requested. Then she gave Sarah an elaborate crown of ice and snow. Johnny had wanted to look like a Viking, so she gave him a ridiculously inaccurate horned helmet and a fur cape. All done in pencil. She’d have to see if her grandmother had any hairspray that she could use to set it later and keep it from smudging.

Once she had a decent picture, Y/N sent it straight to Bucky. They hadn’t spoken much that day. He was busy with Becca and was supposed to go visit his father at some point.

 **Y/N:** **Think I should use this as my final?**

Phone on top of her sketchbook, she cupped her fingers near her mouth. A full-on war had broken out in front of her. Emma and Johnny were ganging up on Sarah and Jewel. Every time a pair of eyes narrowed in on her, she held up her sketchbook as a shield and they didn’t dare.

It didn’t take him long to reply, and she smiled, blowing air in her cupped hands. The fact that he replied quickly always made her smile. Made her feel cherished.

 **Bucky:** **Don’t you ever do anything other than draw? You’re supposed to be on vacation!**

Giggling to herself, she curled her cold toes up tighter in her boots, checking to make sure she still had feeling in them. Pretty soon, she’d have to give up and go inside. Maybe get something hot to drink to remind her body what it meant to be warm.

 **Y/N:** **Never! I’m afraid if I stop I’ll lose whatever skill I have…**

As she waited for him to respond, she carefully ripped the drawing from her sketchbook. Then signed it at the bottom and waved to her cousins, “It’s done!” It took them a second to notice her. Johnny had fallen into a pile of snow, the twins ganging up on him to keep him down. He shoved snow down Jewel’s jacket and she screamed. They let him go, and Jewel started dancing around to try and get the snow out.

Upon finally processing what Y/N had said, the twins cheered and scurried over. Vengeance forgotten. Emma reached her first and took the drawing from her, and Jewel barreled into her sister, eager to see. Girlish giggles of delight filled the crisp air, luring Sarah and Johnny over towards the front steps. Closing her sketchbook. Y/N smiled at the little girls’ over-the-top reactions.

Johnny plucked the drawing from the twins’, making them whine, and laughed, “Sweet! This is so cool!” Sarah glanced over his shoulder and hummed in agreement.

Ready to head inside, Y/N’s phone chimed in the middle of her putting away her pencils. Excited, she balanced the pouch on her knees. Reading the message, she snorted.

 **Bucky:** **Maybe you should make a deal with the devil to keep your power.**

The reply came a bit too easy.  

 **Y/N:** **I lost my soul long ago.**

 **Bucky:** **What’d you spend it on? Hope it was worth it.**

 **Y/N:** **I was promised true love, but I haven’t gotten it yet. I might’ve been cheated.**

When she glanced up, she found Sarah watching her with a small cat-like grin, “Who ya talkin’ to?” Sarah’s long blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a braid, snow clung to the ends like small diamonds. She came over and sat beside Y/N on the stairs, handing the drawing to her. Instinctively, she tucked it away into her sketchbook for safe keeping, realizing that everyone was waiting for her answer.

A blush made her chilled cheeks painfully hot and she pressed her lips together to contain her goofy grin, “My boyfriend.” It felt good to say it. To declare it to someone and butterflies tickled pleasantly inside her.

Emma and Jewel let out equally painful squeals and spoke over each other, “Do you gotta picture?”

“I wanna see!”

The stone stairs on the porch was fairly big, and she leaned to the side so the twins could go up behind her. They sat behind her and Sarah, feet resting next to her hip as they leaned against her back, looking at her phone. Johnny stood on the bottom step, perched against the railing with a vague expression of interest.

Blinking in surprise, Y/N nodded slowly, waving a hand to shush them. It took her a minute to scroll through her saved photos, only for her to realize that her and Bucky had yet to take pictures together. As much time as they spent, she hadn’t really thought about it. Now that it was on her mind, though, she vowed to make him sit and take a selfie with her. That way she could use it as her phone’s background.

Luckily, he had a habit of sending her goofy pictures whenever possible. Finding one of her favorites, she held it up for her little audience to see. Bucky was slumped over on a counter, with a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked disheveled and tired, but his eyes were beautifully vibrant and blue in the morning light. He’d sent that picture from Rosalie’s early one morning, with the caption ‘End my misery’. White apron and black long sleeve shirt stretched over his broad chest. It had nearly made her choke on her ricocheting heart when she’d woken up to it.

It was Sarah who spoke up first, snatching the phone from her hands to get a better look, “Woah, he’s gorgeous!” Her eyes were wide, and Y/N could almost see the question on her face. It was one she often asked herself whenever she was reminded of how utterly handsome Bucky was. Too polite to ask, her cousin just stared at her phone screen, and finished wistfully “I’m so jealous right now. Is he a model?”

Snorting a laugh, Y/N watched as Sarah passed the phone to the twins who were swooning, “No, but he probably could be.” She could see the question right on the tip of her cousin’s tongue. So, she continued, “Honestly, I have no idea what he sees in me. We met in my art class.”

Propping her chin on her hand, Sarah shrugged, “I think I can see it. You’re pretty, and he’s,” She gestured to the phone screen that Jewel handed back to Y/N, “I think you look good together. Bet you mix well.”

Pride made a genuine smile light up Y/N’s face, “We do. I think our personalities work together. Like complimenting colors.” She looked down at the picture one more time before forcing herself to lock the screen and tuck the phone into her coat pocket, along with her frosty hands.

“Is he an artist too?” When she nodded, Sarah groaned, “You’ve got all the luck.”

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced back down at it, smiling at the text.

 **Bucky:** **Maybe I can help you find it. I’m not scared of no devil.**

 **Y/N:** **My soul or true love?**

 **Bucky:** **Why not both?**

 

 

**Later that night**

***  
  
Hands grabbed her. Touched her. Suffocated her. Fingers traced possessively up her leg, slipping towards the tender skin of her inner thigh. An oily residue coated every spot they touched, leaving her tainted and grimy.  Another hand trailed across her stomach and gripped her hipbone so viciously that it hurt. Everything hurt. She was shaking. Muscles coiled so tight that she started trembling. Every inch of her started shaking, until even her teeth were chattering. Her hands hovered up near her chest, frozen with numb fingertips as she tried to move. With every second, she willed herself to stop what was happening.

And Y/N wanted this to stop. Wanted them to stop. But when she opened her mouth to say so, no words came out. Her lips parted as she tried to find her voice, or even take a breath. But she couldn’t.

All her words balled up in her throat like a dam and pooled there in a bottomless ocean of fear and shame. Just swirled beneath the surface. And her lungs constricted tighter and tighter until every ounce of oxygen burned up inside her. She couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t he see she was shaking?  
Didn’t he care?  
He was supposed to care.

A hand snuck towards the apex of her thigh and she thought she might be sick.

Stop.  
Stop.  
Stop.

But he never did. And she already knew he wouldn’t.  
  
***

 

When Y/N woke from a nightmare, it was never a big production.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared into the darkness. Every uneven beat of her heart hammered between her ears and she twisted the blankets in her icy fingers. But couldn’t move. Anxious heat prickled her skin and sweat made everything sticky. The blankets were tangled around her legs and her hair fell across her face like a rat’s nest. After a second, she made herself take a deep breath in and quietly let it out.

As she slowly tried to remember where she was, she listened for him. For breathing. A voice. Any whisper of the sheets shifting, or blankets rustling. It felt like he was right behind her. In the bed.

Soon, he’d be reaching for her. Somehow, she’d just managed to roll out of his constricting embrace for a blissful second. But any minute he would realize what she had done and be grabbing her. To draw her back.

But that was ridiculous.

And yet Y/N felt it. Suspended in the very second before something sunk its claws into her. Petrified like a rabbit in a fox den with nowhere to go.

Little by little, she reached for her phone. Where it lay plugged in on the nightstand. She fought the fear and paranoia. Buried it. Every little noise released by the old house had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

Tears stung her eyes and she unlocked her phone to check the time.

 **2AM** **  
** Great start to Christmas day. Pumped full of adrenaline and unwanted memories.

Too early to justify getting up for the day, but she was too shaken to even attempt sleep. Too afraid she’d just fall right back into the jaws of that nightmare. Her fingers wouldn’t stop quaking, so she gripped the phone tighter. Light burned her eyes, and she blinked, tears escaping as she tried to adjust. Even as awareness woke her up, she had to fight the urge to check over her shoulder. To make sure no one else was in the attic with her.

Right above her head, hail pattered along the roof. Hard. The room was cold, and she curled up tighter to try and conserve any of the heat trapped under the blankets with her. Soft sheets brushed her skin, but even that was too much sensation for her overwhelmed system.

Sniffing back tears, she flipped idly through social media. Desperately tried to forget her nightmare. Tried to put it back in its box and destroy the key this time.

When Y/N checked her messages, she paused over Bucky’s. Rereading some of their previous messages and smiling a little at the bickering. All over whether she should bring him a souvenir or not. Not like there were many good shopping areas around here, but she thought it would be nice to bring him something from her trip.

She let out a shaky breath and hesitated for only a second before typing him a simple message. It took a couple tries. A few aborted attempts to decide what she wanted to say.

 **Y/N:** **Hey**

If he was awake, maybe talking would help calm her down. If not, she could just tell him tomorrow that she couldn’t sleep. Not a lie. And it wasn’t like he had to know the exact reasons why.

She was still scrolling through Tumblr when her phone vibrated in her hands. It startled her, and she tensed up. Body going rigid and heart leaping up until it hovered against the back of her tongue. Only to realize what it was, and she let out a slow breath. Then opened the message.

**Bucky: Hey, why you up so late?**

**Y/N:** **Can’t sleep, you?**

 **Bucky:** **Me either**

For a minute or so, she stretched out on her back and debated what to say. Cool air brushed her face and she scrunched up her nose before pulling the blanket over her head. Before she could reply, though, her screen lit up. It hummed and buzzed, and her eyes widened. Seeing that he was calling, her heart stuttered. She hesitated for only a second, before giving in and answering. Her voice was rough and thick from tears when she spoke up.

“Hey!” Y/N tried to make herself appear normal. Like she hadn’t woke up crying. But it came off wrong, so she followed it up with a question, “Everything ok?”

“As good as 2 in the morning can be.” Bucky snorted. He sounded deeper over the phone, and hearing his voice soothed her. Like a cooling balm to her soul. Then he tacked on, “Merry Christmas by the way.”

Every word he spoke had the edges of her terror subsiding but then the tears started to come in earnest. Like the fear had been the only thing keeping them at bay. As the fear drifted off, the pathetic sadness and aching wound in her chest started throbbing harder. Louder. She swallowed around the burning lump in her throat and forced a shaky laugh, "Guess it is past midnight." She mused, and then added, "Merry Christmas sweetheart." The endearment felt right and good to say. It warmed the cold corners of her heart. Maybe if she kept laughing, kept trying to smile for him, the claws of despair wouldn’t be able to drag her too deep.

Bucky paused for a second, shifting the phone and asked quietly, "Are you alright?" It was the tender concern in his question that made her heart swell until all the emotions roaring inside her were too much for her to handle. It was all too much.

Embarrassed, she curled up onto her side and wrapped herself around an extra pillow. She thought she’d kept the tremor from her voice. Not well enough. Eyes closed, she covered her mouth to stifle the whine building in her throat. Then took a slow breath in and out and admitted, "Just had a really, really bad dream." She stumbled over the middle and was surprised he could understand her through the rasping and shaking.

Quiet again, Bucky hummed in understanding, but didn’t speak right away. It seemed like he was trying to pick his words carefully. In the dreadful minute before his reply, she tried to sort through her thoughts and figure out what she wanted to say. Worried about what he might say. Finally, Bucky simply asked, "Wanna talk about it?"

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she did. It was a lot. A tangled web of information. If she tried to explain the nightmare, she’d have to explain the memory that accompanied it, and the person. And the history and she just didn’t know how.

Her silence stretched as she thought about it and finally sighed, "I don’t know if I can." Rubbing at her eyes and nose, she shoved her hair back off her damp face. A few tears escaped, and she swiped them away, trying to deny that they were ever there in the first place.

"You don’t have to." Bucky swiftly backtracked, a bit panicked, "I just want to help. If I can." Every word stumbled out of his mouth, rapid and awkward. She picked at a loose thread on the pillow she wrapped herself around. Aside from the crashing of the hail along the roof, the house was quiet. Dead quiet and still.

It occurred to her then that this was all awkward. Because he had never comforted her before. It had always been her comforting him. Except that one time on Halloween and over dumb things like her grades, he’d never had to. Sometimes he had eased her concerns over their relationship, but that was stress he caused her by himself.

They had never done this before and she hated herself for not feeling comfortable talking to him about it. She wanted to but what if he couldn’t help? What if he hurt her with the information? It wasn’t that she thought he’d use it against her, but it would hurt if he simply didn’t understand. One wrong word over this topic could wound her. This was a vulnerable spot.

"It was more of a memory than a dream." She hedged and vaguely attempted to elaborate, "I dated this guy and he hurt me. Pretty bad. For about 3 years or so." Her lip trembled, and she bit it to still it.

The other end of the line was pin drop quiet for so long that she squinted at the blinding screen to see if the call had dropped. Then Bucky asked, "He’s still around?"

Scoffing, Y/N shook her head, "God no. I haven't heard from him in over a year." It was out before she remembered the letter. And she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, resisting the urge to look at where it lay hidden away across the dark room.

It wasn’t really a lie. But she didn’t know how to explain the letter. Didn’t even know how to explain the entire mess that led to Jason being out of her life.

"Good, I was getting ready to jump on a plane and come kick some ass." He joked, and it made her smile, even if it was watery. The tears were finally drying themselves up, and the acute ache in her chest drifted down to a dull throbbing.

"He’s back in Queens." She clarified, stretching out her legs in the bed, "But that won’t be necessary."

"He deserves it." Bucky insisted, "If you're having nightmares about it a year later, he deserves it and more."

The conviction made her stomach flip with the fluttering beat of wings, "How do you deal with the nightmares?" Changing the subject was one of her many defense mechanisms. It was something she’d always done to keep the attention off herself. To give the old reopened wound inside her a chance to clot the blood and stop the bleeding out of her strength.

Wordlessly, she hoped he didn’t ask how she knew about them, and was relieved when he answered, "Sometimes I go for a run if they're really bad." He snorted, "Most of the time I just don’t sleep."

Surprised, Y/N laughed at that, "Oh very healthy. Great use of therapy."

He chuckled, and his laugh was a lullaby for her heart, "Not all the time. Sometimes I watch TV and just crash on the couch at dawn." There was a beat of quiet then he asked, "Do you have nightmares often?"

"No." She sighed, shifting the phone to her other hand so she could flex her stiff fingers, "I used to have them all the time. Even a few months ago. But it's gotten easier. I think I'll just start calling you every time." She teased and the smile on her face felt sincere, even lighter.

"I wouldn’t mind." Bucky’s easy response made her smile even more.

"I'll keep that in mind." Staring up at the barely illuminated ceiling, she asked, "How was dinner with your dad?"

Bucky groaned in annoyance, "Worst year in a while." He huffed, "We were going to go over in the morning for gifts, but Becca doesn’t want anything to do with him now. Probably won’t for a while." It had to be pretty bad if even his sister didn’t want to see him. From what Y/N understood, Becca was the defender of keeping a relationship with their father.

Hesitantly she asked, "What happened?"

He snorted bitterly, the phone shuffling and he sounded a little more echoey, "He got stinking drunk. And I had to try and put him to bed. But then—" Bucky cut himself off and cleared his throat, "Well he just didn’t want to go. Made it hard for everyone."

It felt like he wasn’t telling her something. She mulled over brushing it off, but then decided to ask, "Did he do something?"

Bucky didn’t reply right away, and as the silence drifted on, she worried he wouldn’t. So, she tacked on, "A truth for a truth. Tell me a thought and I'll owe you one."

Bucky chuckled quietly, "Like showing our scars?" It sounded like he shut a cabinet, and then the microwave beeped. Must have been making a snack.

"Kinda."

He hummed and then gave in, "Alright... I'm thinking that my dad is an ungrateful bastard and if I had it my way, I'd only see him to make sure he’s still breathing." The statement ended in a soft growl, and then he continued, "I'm thinking Becca deserves better. That if mom saw what he'd become after she died, she’d be heartbroken." He trailed off, words cracking towards the end and then gave a little, weak laugh, "Think that means you owe me three."

"I do." Y/N mused, mind whirling with the information, "I'm thinking... we have a lot to still learn about each other. That... that I haven't opened up about myself much at all. And that I'm scared to." The confession was tiny and weak. Like she had almost been unable to finish it.

"Scared?" He asked gently, a bit surprised.

"Ya, its dumb but I am."

"It’s not dumb.” He protested, and then asked, “Why?"

"I guess cause if I let you in, you could hurt me." Nervously, she sat up and tugged her knees up, so she could rest her arms on them, chin on her forearm.

"Doesn’t that go both ways?"

"Ya but you haven't let me in much." Her sentence was muffled against her arm, the blankets bunched up over her knees. A shiver traced down her spine like a caress of a finger as the cool air nipped at her exposed skin.

Bucky scoffed, "More than anyone. Ever. Except Steve but he was there for most of it." He let out a breath, "Baby doll, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ever make you. But you don’t have to be scared. I'd never hurt you on purpose."

"I know." Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, "I know that." She internally cursed herself for feeling like crying again, "I'd rather tell you the entire thing in person."

"That's fair." He agreed.        

In the moment that followed, she felt just a little better. Like they’d reached a new understanding. Then she asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"I miss you." He replied easily, "And I think I like calling you doll."

She smiled, sniffing the tears back down, "Then we’ll keep that one. Cause I like it too." Uncoiling herself, she fell back onto the mattress, staring up at the dark ceiling. The hail had stopped, and through the window to her left, she could see it had started snowing instead. The snow glittered in the light of the streetlamp outside. Like tiny falling stars.

Reluctantly, she relaxed further into the mattress, slowly starting to feel sleepy. Her eyes fell shut and she tugged the blankets further up towards her chin.

"You?" Bucky’s voice was far away and quiet. Soothing. Like a dream all on its own.

"Mn?"

"Thinking about?"

The question made her brain focus. At least she tried to focus, and she hummed quietly in thought, answering without much consideration, "That I wish you were here."

"Ya?"

"Mmhm, I want you to hold me." She blushed at her confession, but was too tired to try and backtrack, "I think I could fall asleep easier if you were."

"I'd like that." Bucky admitted, and her stomach fluttered, "I'd keep you safe."

His voice started drifting in and out of focus and it took her mind a second longer to come up with a response, "Fight off all my fears?"

"Of course." He chuckled, "Get some sleep babydoll. I'll see you soon."

Unable to even form a protest, she whispered, "Night."

Blearily, she pushed her phone away and was asleep before he hung up.

 

**December 27 th**

The plane shook around her as it stabled out. Tremors subsiding, a ding filled the air, letting everyone know it was ok to roam around. Relieved, she let out a breath; looking out the window and taking in the pink morning light. Golden crested clouds swept along beneath her view and she shifted to lean her temple against the window and watch the sky.

After a few minutes, she pulled out her phone from her purse at her feet, a new one her grandmother had gotten her for Christmas. It was pretty, and better than the raggedy one she’d had before. When she’d woken up Christmas morning, Y/N had still felt the residual exhaustion from her nightmare. But once everyone arrived, and festivities began, it had melted away. Lost the razor edges of terror and became something easier to ignore. Just a dark cloud in the back of her mind.

An older woman sat one seat over from her, an empty one between them, and blew her nose loudly into a tissue. It made Y/N jerk in surprise and remember why she needed headphones. Shuffling through her purse, she found her travel pair and started untangling them. Her family had been disappointed to hear that she was heading back earlier than her parents but understood when she mentioned the trip her and Bucky were taking.

No one would stop teasing her after she’d mentioned it.

Poking up from the bottom of her purse, the white envelope stared challengingly at her through all the random junk filling her bag. She still hadn’t read it. Every day that she’d been gone swung by too fast and made it so easy for her to ignore the damn thing. It’d been 5 days since her mother handed it to her.

 Headphones in place, she hesitated before taking out the letter. The envelope had pencil smudges from being roughly handled, shoved in and out of her different bags. She needed to read it. And it would be better to read it now before Bucky picked her up from the airport when she landed.

Better to get it over with and stop being a big baby about it all.

As she finished ripping it open, Y/N ignored the tremor in her fingers. Really, this was just getting ridiculous. She adjusted her phone, finding a song to block out all the background noise of the flight. A baby had just started crying three rows in front of her.

Inside, she found three pages of notebook paper. Covered in his small chicken scratch. It took her a second to adjust to reading his handwriting. It always was a mess, and she could tell he had tried, and failed, to be neat.

 

_Y/N,_

_I really wanted to talk to you, and since I don’t have your number, I thought I'd write you a letter. You'd prefer this anyway. You’ve always been a romantic. First, I need to say that I’m sorry, for everything that happened between us. It got so out of hand at the end and I never meant for you to get hurt. Second, that I miss you. Everything about you and I understand why you did what you did. I forgive you._

 

Over the course of an hour, she read through it once, and then twice. By the third time she had to pull up her hood and hunker down into a ball to try and hide the tears. They stung and made her throat swell up until no air had any hope of getting in. Embarrassed and angry that he had managed to make her cry, she bit her lip hard to fight it. In front of a plane full of strangers, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Too many emotions had her flushing hot and then plunging into cold at her fingertips. Cold and numb as a panic attack crept up on the edges of her vision. Silently, she turned in her seat to face the window more. Hoping the older woman reading beside her couldn’t see her cry. Carefully she folded the letter back up and put it back in the envelope. Then put that back in her purse.

There was a soft buzzing filling her ears. It wasn’t coming from her music.

Phone in hand, she flipped through several different artists and tried to focus on the song playing. Rather than her swirling thoughts.

Jason wanted to see her.  
Wanted to make things up to her.

Just the thought of seeing him made her stomach revolt. No, she just wouldn’t reply. She’d ignore it. Ignore all of it until it went away. Until he got the picture and left her alone.

He didn’t have her number or address.  
He couldn’t find her.

As Y/N wiped at her eyes, she made herself think about Bucky instead. She would be seeing him in a short while and couldn’t wait. Taking in a shaky breath, she counted to ten and let it out. Focused on the plane. On the music, and the worn seat underneath her. Made her eyes track the fluffy clouds within reach from the window, and took in another breath, smelling the metallic tang of the recycled air in the plane. The mint from the candies the woman beside her kept popping into her mouth every so often.

Seeing Bucky wouldn’t fix everything, but he’d make her feel better. Just his presence would calm her. Even if he had no idea why she was upset, he would help. Just being around him and laughing with him would be enough. Y/N missed him.

All she wanted to do was feel him wrap his arm around her.  
Feel him kiss away the hurt with every touch, and just be with him.

The letter didn’t change any of that. It didn’t change anything.  
She wouldn’t let it.


	16. An Empty Honey Jar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plenty of excuses for why this took so long BUT I'm sorry!   
> I couldn't pick where to end it so it kept getting longer and longer until we got to where we are now.  
> Tell me what you think!  
> Thank you to everyone who comments and kudos and bookmarks!   
> It all means a lot to me <3

Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be. Traveling during the holidays was never ideal, but Y/N had thought things might have calmed down by Thursday. People of all shapes and sizes swept past her in blurs of color. Every brush of someone’s arm or bark of laughter set her teeth on edge. It was exhausting. Today was draining on the last of her reserves. Nothing left inside her but wispy fumes and a chocolate bar she swiped from a vending machine on her way to get her luggage.

Suitcases draped over every spare inch of her, Y/N made her way towards the escalator. Her palm felt sweaty on the handle of her bulkiest suitcase as she rolled it behind her. After all the gifts, she’d ended up with one extra bag to fit everything into. At this point, she was starting to regret telling Bucky to wait for her near the front entrance, rather than coming to help her get all her stuff.

Holiday music rolled over top the chatter of the crowd. Sparkling red, and green decorations hung along every extra bit of space in the airport. Garland decorated entryways, and frosty window decals peppered along the shops. If she was being honest, she was sick of hearing about Santa Claus. It was a relief that the holidays were about to be over. There wasn’t much left inside her to feel warm cheer over anything.

Everything felt far away. Fuzzy. Like she was about to have sensory overload. Even the scent of something greasy from the airport food court made her stomach churn unpleasantly. The edges of her vision greyed, and Y/N could only focus on one foot in front of the other. Autopilot took over as her mind receded inside a whirring ocean of thoughts.

Settling on the escalator, she plopped her suitcase next to her on the wide step and let out a breath. A broad-shouldered man wearing a long trench coat blocked her view of the bottom floor. Taller than her, even a step below. Up on her tiptoes, Y/N tried to peer over his shoulder. Then she leaned haphazardly to the side, supporting her awkward position with her hand on the shifting rail.

From past the man’s thick arm, she finally found him. A tall, familiar figure clad in full black and a leather jacket to top it off stood just to the left of the escalator. Cradled in his hands, he held up a white canvas with her full name painted on it. Dorky paint splatters covered the white space, and she smiled as warmth started to spark in her limbs. Bucky glanced around the airport, searching for her, and took out his phone to check the time.

It was ridiculous how he could make her heart break out from its cage of ribs without even trying.

When he peered up again, she was already off the escalator and a couple steps away. The second his winter blue eyes landed on her, she stilled, suddenly shy. There was a cut near his temple and what looked like a bruise on his jaw. Her lips parted to ask about it, but her tongue abruptly couldn’t form words. All the time they’d spent apart hit her like a train and she felt the full weight of how much she’d missed him. It took her breath away. Made her ribs pinch tight around her lungs.

A grin made his face light up like the north star, and he waved the sign at her, “I’m here to pick up Miss. Y/L/N. Got any idea where I could find her?” There was a cheeky drawl to his words, and he tilted his head just so. Sweetness glinted in his smile and eyes, making her entire body thrum with heat and want.

Inside her chest, her self-control snapped like a wire. Dropping her suitcase, she abandoned the two bags in her hands. Only her backpack stayed in place off the floor. People flinched in surprise around her, obviously annoyed at her sudden action. They muttered and glowered at the stuff she left in the way. Not a single ounce of her could be bothered to care.

Then Y/N was all but running towards him. Bucky let the canvas clatter to the floor and took a step towards her, arms open. When she barreled into him, he chuckled fondly and hugged her tight. The sound was deep and reverberated through her, straight to her weary heart. Tears pricked her eyes and she pressed her face into his chest, nuzzling him to hide the evidence. With a deep breath in, and out, she relaxed as his scent enveloped her and his heat bled into her clothes.

“You’d think we haven’t seen each other in months.” Bucky teased, kissing the top of her head. His left hand held the small of her back while his right rubbed soothingly up and down her spine over her coat.

A thick laugh left her, and she tilted her chin up just as he leaned down. Y/N had never wanted to kiss someone more in her life, “Shut up.” The demand left her quietly and not with as much strength as she wanted it to. Their lips met and suddenly she could breathe easier. Her fingers felt up his chest, under his jacket and then his neck. Desperate to touch him. Feel him solid beneath her. When she cupped his face, he flinched, and she jerked back, eyebrows together. Their lips parted, and she felt him release a short, pained breath.

That’s when she really took note of it. A deep blue bruise covered his jaw and up the length of his face where a cut resided on the side of his brow near his temple. Frowning, she gently ran a thumb over his eyebrow, “What happened?”

Bucky winced again and caught her hand, bringing it down to kiss her fingers, “Just some family drama.” His gloves were rough on her bare hands, but she barely noticed. The black material stark against her skin.

Around them, throngs of people continued business as usual. Passed by them like they were just inconvenient rocks in the middle of a vast river. His words were nearly stolen by the buzzing background chatter. Cold air brushed across her legs from the sliding door opening and closing to the world outside a few yards behind him.

“Your dad…?” Y/N trailed off and he nodded. Bucky released her and stepped over to pick up her forgotten bags off the floor, “Why didn’t you—”

“I’ll tell you about it in the cab. Ok?” He offered, coming back over to her. Her suitcase rolled behind him in his left hand, another bag slung over his shoulder. Impatient, she scooped up the forgotten canvas on the floor and she took her purse from him, so he could wrap his right arm over her shoulders. He kissed her temple as they started wading through the crowd towards the exit.

 

 

After they settled into the back of a cab, Bucky gave the driver her address. It was snowing outside. Just small flakes fluttering down and twisting with the wind. The air was bitterly cold, and she curled close to him to steal some of his warmth. Even though the cab’s heater was on full blast, it didn’t feel warm enough. There was a lingering scent of cigarette smoke in the fabric of the seats and an overflowing ashtray up front next to the middle age driver.

Glancing up at her boyfriend, Y/N pursed her lips and reached for his right hand, “So when he didn’t want to go to bed, he hit you?” Her eyes flickered from his, then down to his hand where she made it her mission to pluck his glove off. Something fragile inside her needed to feel the calluses of his fingers and she figured he wouldn’t mind.

Bucky snorted a bitter laugh at her question, but then an amused smile curled up on the corner of his mouth as he watched her. He didn’t speak up until she let his glove fall on his thigh and laced their fingers together. Smug, he raised his eyebrows at her in silent question, and she just arched her own back in turn. The radio played loud up front, giving them some semblance of privacy in the back. Every pothole the cab hit had her jostled closer to him, their shoulders bumping together, but she hardly noticed.

They stared at each other in the quiet, challenging for explanations. Finally, Bucky acquiesced, and ran his gloved hand through his hair, making it stick up from the melted snow dampening it, “Not exactly.” He swallowed. His eyes were full of conflicting emotions when he looked at her, and the bruise highlighted the vibrant blue of them. Staring down at his lap, he continued, “He just hit me with his beer bottle when I tried to take it away.” He stated it so dismissively, that it took her a minute for the weight of his words to really sink in.

Eyes wide, Y/N shook her head, “That’s not—” She tried to swallow around the wasteland in her throat, “Buck, that’s not ok. You know that right?” Her snow damp hair was cold against the back of her neck and her exposed skin still felt chilled from their few minutes outside.

Not meeting her eyes, Bucky’s shrugged, lips in a fine line, “I should have been more careful. I knew he was drunk, and I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” She interrupted, squeezing his hand and making him look at her. Her voice dropped, careful so that he was the only one who could hear her, “It’s not ok. No buts. Would you excuse it if he hit Becca?” The horror and rage that flooded his expression paralyzed her insides with nerves.

“Never.” Bucky’s response was a quiet snarl, lip curled in disgust, “If he ever…” He trailed off and realization made him blink a couple times as he lost his words. Then he nodded, shoulders slumping as he sunk down in his seat. In doing so, their faces were level and he turned his head to rest it back, “You’re right.” He held her eyes and there was vulnerability swirling across the surface of them, “But it’s hard to see it that way sometimes because it’s always been like this. For almost as long as I can remember.” He played with her fingers, tracing her knuckles, “I guess I should explain some history first.”

Quiet, Y/N gave him the peace to collect his thoughts. Staring out the window, Bucky started, “My dad was in the army back during Vietnam, but he didn’t even make it past basic training. Just before he was going to ship out, he had a training accident. Didn’t open his parachute quick enough, and he came home paralyzed from the waist down. I was only 6 at the time and Becca wasn’t even born.”

“That’s awful.” Y/N whispered, horrified by the thought of suddenly not being able to walk. Suddenly losing something everyone else took for granted every day. He looked back over at her, expression solemn and mouth pressed into a fine line.

Nodding, he continued, tracing idle designs on the back of her hand with a gloved finger, “Money was tight, but we made it work. Until mom died in the car accident. Drunk driver hit us on our way home from the grocery store.” He grimaced and clenched his jaw, “I was only 12, and I can remember the car filling with smoke. Metal and glass everywhere. I still have a scar on my side from glass cutting me. Becca got stuck in her booster seat and mom was unconscious up front. I had the brains to get my sister out, just as it started sparking.” Y/N squeezed his hand tighter as she felt him lock up beside her. This story was obviously hard for him to tell, and she could see his eyes drifting far away.

The car shook as they hit another pothole and he winced, letting out a shaky breath, “When I tried to open the driver door, I couldn’t. It was crushed, and then some adults started dragging me away. Just in time for the engine to explode with her still in there.” It looked like he was one word away from crying, but then he blinked. Sniffing, he scrubbed a hand over his too-pale face and met her eyes, “Dad was never the same after that. None of us were.”

“Of course not.” Y/N managed, her heart breaking for him. Their eyes met, and he offered her a weak smile, but it didn’t look quite right. Didn’t make it to his haunted eyes. Still, she smiled back for him, bringing his hand up to kiss his fingers. They were cold against her mouth, and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. The barely-there tilt of his lips was real then.

“He drank before, but he started staying drunk after that. We fought. A lot. So, the moment I could, I moved out. Not far, cause I still needed to be there for Becca, but I knew if I stayed we’d come to blows eventually.” Bucky rolled his eyes, irritation overpowering the hurt, “He never hit us. Just yelled.”

“That can be just as bad.” She pointed out and he hummed in agreement with noncommittal shrug. Carefully, she asked, “If he never hit you, then what happened?” She gestured to his bruise. Upfront, the driver cursed over something on the radio and took a sharp corner, nearly making her topple across the seat to the opposite side. Bucky caught her hip with his left hand, arm stretched across her body, and glared at the back of the driver’s head.

Uncoiling from around her, he cleared his throat and answered, “When he gets too drunk, he can’t move himself from his wheelchair to bed. But he doesn’t like it when I help him. I tried to take away his beer bottle, and he liked that even less.” His nose wrinkled as he sneered, “Bastard hit me across the face with it. Then fell out of his chair and started throwing an even bigger fit. Made Becca cry. It was a mess.” His eyes squeezed shut, and he rubbed them with his free hand.

“I’m so sorry.” It was all she could think to say, and it didn’t feel anywhere near enough for the situation. Still, she said them and cupped her hands around his, and tried to express her emotions through that touch. Tried to think of any way to comfort him.

Bucky shrugged again, wearily finishing, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. There wasn’t much you could do anyway.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes when the confession settled between them, glancing out the window. Then down at his lap, and around the cab. Really anywhere but her.

Frowning, Y/N tilted her head, and leaned closer to him. In his line of sight so he’d meet her eyes. When he looked at her, she stretched up and gave him a soft kiss, “Well you’re telling me now.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead, then gave a ghost like kiss to the bruise, “And don’t worry about worrying me. Ok? I wanna help if I can. Even if it’s not much.”

He raised his eyebrows and snorted, “Same to you.” He kissed her forehead, and let out a breath, sounding relieved, “You do help. Just being yourself helps.”

Y/N let her head rest on his shoulder, the leather cold on her cheek, “You help too.”

“Really? Cause I felt pretty useless the other night.” His breath brushed her forehead, and she felt his words more than she heard them.

Surprised, she scoffed, “This helps.” She shook his hand, their fingers still locked together, “And with the risk of sounding cheesy, your voice makes me feel better too. The way you say things.”

It was truer than she cared to admit even to herself. The exhaustion from before was still there. Jason’s letter still clawed like a beast in the back of her mind, but it was easier to ignore. Bucky made her feel lighter and made the raw edges of her nerves smooth out. Ease up. In that moment, could tentatively say that she really was ok.

The sound of his chuckle carried through her bones and made her relax further against him. His lips brushed her forehead when he teased, “That was so cheesy. But I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence stretched comfortably between them. Filled with the radio playing some mainstream music that she realized she knew the lyrics to but couldn’t place the singer. She started mouthing the words to herself, enjoying the easy rhythm and lyrics. After the second chorus, she found herself saying, “Thank you. For telling me about what happened. Seriously.” Even if he was late about it, he’d opened up about something else. It was a big deal.

“Don’t thank me for that.” Bucky snorted a laugh, pulling out his phone, “It felt kind of good to talk about it though. To someone else.” He mused, and then offered, sounding brighter, “I was thinking Chinese takeout for dinner?”

“Perfect.” Y/N tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, smiling. Now that he mentioned it, she was starving. Her appetite swung back at her in full force. Sheepishly, she asked, “And a Disney movie?”

A playful scowl met her smile, and he groaned, as if completely put out, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

 

 

Full to the point of it being unpleasant, Y/N finished throwing away the last of the takeout boxes. Kitchen cleaned up, she glanced over to where Bucky was rinsing off the dishes. Deviously, she tiptoed behind up him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Only reaching between his shoulder blades, she let her cheek rest there and hummed happily when he put down the plate in the strainer and covered her hands with his wet right one.

Bucky relaxed back into her and groaned, “Don’t squeeze too hard! I’ll puke.” Rebelliously, she squeezed him tight just once, then released him when he squawked in protest. Laughing, she stepped back and hopped up onto her island counter. The end credits of Tangled played in the background, and her suitcases were piled, forgotten just within her living room. There wasn’t much of a point unpacking, since they’d be leaving together in a couple days, but she did have to take care of some laundry tomorrow.

Whirling on her, Bucky flicked water in her face from his hands. She laughed harder and just grinned at his scowl, “Oh come on! Poor little soldier got a tummy ache from all that big bad Chinese?”

For a second, he just watched her, a small amused glint in his baby blues. Then he tilted his head and got a wicked grin, “Little soldier?” He snorted and took only one step to situate himself between her legs in front of the counter. Up close, she could see the places where his bruised jaw already started to yellow at the edges.

There was something mischievous in Bucky’s tone that had her toes curling in delight. Not wanting the banter to end, Y/N tried to keep a straight face, and narrowed her eyes at him, “Mmhmm, you’re whining like one.” Her hands were splayed behind her as she propped herself up, leaning away from him so she could study his movements.

The pressure of his hands on the tops of her knees had her breath hitching. His metal one was cold through her faded jeans. Concern flitted across his features at the small noise she made, but when she smiled in answer, he relaxed. Then he spread her legs just subtly wider and her lips parted for an entirely different reason. Between her thighs, he leaned over her and his voice dropped to bedroom silk, “I can promise you darlin’, there’s nothing little about me.”

Heat coiled in the bottom of her belly, and she arched up towards him, feeling his breath on her mouth, “I’d love to see you prove it.” Y/N tilted her head and felt her lips brush his in a feather light kiss. It made her nerves spark to life.

“You have such a wicked mouth.” Bucky murmured, and before she could think of something to say with said wicked mouth, he kissed her harder. Instantly, her fingers tangled in his thick hair, feeling the soft strands and tugging herself closer. The hands on her knees slid up to her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the counter until their hips were flush together and she groaned.

His mouth tasted like sugary soda when he parted her lips with his tongue. Blissfully, she forgot to breathe when he felt across her teeth. Then her hips bucked against him and Bucky pulled back just far enough to kiss her jaw, and ear, biting her earlobe. The material of his thin black sweater was soft under her fingertips when she explored across his broad shoulders.

It felt like she was burning up. Every inch of her coiling tighter and tighter with insatiable want for him. The hands against her hips slid further down and cupped her lower back and rear. As Bucky’s teeth grazed the pulse point of her neck, he held her in place and rocked his hips back against her own.

“Oh god.” She gasped, the pressure of him against her made her stars burst behind her eyelids.

“Not quite.” Bucky’s voice was just as wrecked as hers when he laughed, and she decided that was her new favorite sound. Turning her head, she kissed a trail from his jaw to his chin in her search for his mouth. Mindful of his bruise as she went. When they met again, he started a slow, aching rhythm with his hips. It followed the sweet, teasing push and pull of his mouth.

Slowly, Y/N felt down his chest and caught the hem of his black jeans, her fingers stilling on the button of his pants. Bucky’s fingers brushed across her own and she froze. Her eyes opened and she met his, thumbing the button, “D-Do you want me to stop?” She asked quietly. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy with want and hair in complete disarray.

“I—” Bucky stopped when her phone started vibrating obnoxiously on the table top. He frowned and she removed her hands so she could lean back and pick it up. Annoyed, she glanced at the screen and sighed, “Sorry, it’s Peter.” Y/N explained, and he nodded for her to go ahead.

Before he could step away from her, she caught the edge of his worn shirt and tugged him to a stop. Confused, Bucky met her eyes over the brim of her phone and snorted at the little smirk she gave him. He reached for her and brushed his fingers through her hair while Y/N thumbed through the rapid-fire messages Peter sent her way. The warm touch of his fingers along her forehead and down her cheek made it difficult to sort through all the words her friend was sending her way. Leaning into Bucky’s touch, she blinked and forced herself to sort the letters into a form of English.

The counter was cool underneath her, and the vent above their heads kicked on. Warm air caressed her skin and she squirmed when Bucky nuzzled his cold nose against her cheek. Lips hot as he kissed just beneath her jaw. His fingers tangled in her hair, stroking through the strands and she giggled at the affection he was pouring over her.

Then she finished sorting through Peter’s messages and huffed. Bucky pulled back far enough to meet her eyes with a raised brow. Frustrated, Y/N sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, “He wanted to see me tonight.” She bit her lip and slipped her finger through one of his belt loops, phone dropping to her lap, “I told him you were coming over, but…” Unable to figure out how to end that sentence, she looked up at him with a frown.

Gently, Bucky hand cupped her cheek and he smiled at her, making the dimple on his chin deepen, “You should go see him.” His thumb stroked her cheekbone and she took hold of the front of his shirt with her free hand, making him stoop down towards her. Even perched on the counter, he toward over her.

Of course, she should see Peter, but she didn’t want to. Seeing him meant she had to talk about all the things that she was carefully ignoring. But he was worried, and she would be leaving for another week. Today or tomorrow would be the last chance they’d have to hangout for a while. It would be mean to leave him hanging. Problem was, she was feeling selfish.

“But I miss you.” Y/N admitted, hating how childish it sounded. When she tilted her chin up, Bucky dropped down and met her in a kiss. His hand fell to her shoulder and he held her in place while he broke the kiss all too soon.

“C’mon sweetheart. I’m trying to be good here.” Bucky chuckled, glaring playfully at her, “We’ll be spending a bunch of time together really soon. Hell! I’ll be seeing you after work tomorrow.” He shook his head, snorting incredulously, and let his metal hand rest on her knee again.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling and glanced over at her phone where it buzzed next to her thigh. Peter was starting to call in every favor she owed him. Listing every reason why she should see him. Pretty soon, he’d show up at her apartment. Wasn’t like he lived far away. The split-second scowl on Bucky’s face made her raise her eyebrows in surprise, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” Bucky ducked his head and waved her off. The expression vanished just as quickly as it appeared. She reached up and brushed his bangs off his forehead, his lip quirked up in a little lopsided smile

“Maybe I could come over after.” Y/N found herself suggesting, the idea making her stomach bubble in nervous excitement. Lightly, she bumped her socked foot against his knee, tilting her head in question.

Confused, he frowned, ocean blues searching her own, “That would be pretty late.” He pinched the chain of her hourglass necklace between his fingers and followed it down to where the pendant rested against her collarbone, fiddling with it. Everywhere he touched made her burn inside and out and she lifted her chin just a hair to give him better access.

“Ya, so?” Y/N awkwardly shrugged a shoulder and bit her lip, looking away when she realized he wasn’t getting it. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she clarified uncomfortably, “I could just stay. Ya know? The night.”

Realization dawned across Bucky’s features and he dropped his hand from her necklace, leaving it to bounce against her chest. Nervous, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away to the tiled floor, “I don’t know.” He mumbled. Behind him, the fridge kicked on with a click and shuddering hum.

Disappointment and embarrassment bloomed like prickling needles across her skin and she released her hold on him too. Then he shuffled just a half step back and she felt very cold, “Oh I—” Y/N cleared her throat and twisted her hands in her lap, “Why not?” At his slight shrug and unreadable expression, she pursed her lips, “W-We’re going to be sharing a room at Tony’s, right?”

“Ya we could,” Bucky winced at the disappointment across her features and reassured her, “We are. I just, I’m not really ready.” He held his palms up imploringly, metal one glinting in the golden light of her kitchen.

Eyebrows raised, she gestured between them and dubiously shot back, “Well you don’t really have much time left to figure it out.” They were supposed to leave for Tony’s the 29th. The day after tomorrow.

Groaning in frustration, Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and barked a humorless laugh, “I know that.” He took another two steps away until he hit the sink and slumped against it, “I know.” He repeated softer than before. His legs stretched out in front of him, black socks sliding against the linoleum floor as he propped himself up.

Just a bit gentler, Y/N offered, “We don’t have to share a room if you don’t want.” And she meant it, even if it wasn’t what she wanted. Obviously, she wanted to share a room. To have him hold her like they talked about on Christmas. She wanted all of it. All of him. But she wouldn’t force him. Never.

“But I do want to. Really want to.” Bucky stressed, crossing his arms around himself. He slouched lower, watching her with a tight, nervous expression. Something close to shame flickered through his blue eyes and he averted his gaze after a long couple of seconds. Jaw tight like he was fighting with himself over what to say.

The knot growing inside her stomach eased just a fraction, and she took a calming breath, letting it out in a rush, “Then… what’s the problem?” Her thumb brushed over the edge of her phone, flipping it in her hands, trying to burn anxious energy. Unsurprisingly, it was easier to focus on his issues than her own. To narrow her concentration on solving these puzzles and forget about the letter.

But she was so tired. Today was dragging on too long and she didn’t know how she was even managing to navigate this conversation.

Bucky clenched his fists under his arms and glared at the floor, clearing his throat. It seemed like an effort for him to keep his voice even and strong, “The nightmares have gotten worse. Since Christmas Eve.” He gave a dismissive half-shrug, “Should pass soon. Nothing serious. I just… really don’t want you to have to deal with it.” He met her eyes. Brick by brick, she could see him building his walls back up right in front of her.

Clasping the edge of the counter with her hands, Y/N discarded her phone to the side. Then she leaned forward, heels thumping against the side lightly, “I could help. Like you helped me.” She forced herself to stay still, trying to stop fidgeting and steeling herself for whatever he threw her way.

“It’s not the same.” Bucky responded instantly. The sheer stubbornness in his tone made her hackles raise.

Scoffing, Y/N hopped off the counter, giving up on sitting, “And how not? Nightmares are nightmares. We both have them. If anyone could understand, it’d be me.” She pressed a hand to her chest, fingers curling around the necklace.

Firm, Bucky straightened his spine, hands tucking into his back pockets, “Maybe, but it is different because… I could hurt you. Sometimes when I wake up from them, I don’t know where I am. The nightmare follows me.” He grimaced and bit his bottom lip. For a second, he stared off to the side, debating something. When he finally addressed her again, his tone was softer, less edge to it, “You… remember when Dot stayed the night?”

It took every bit of steel inside her not to flinch at Dot being brought up. Funny thing, though, after the initial surprise wore off, she waited for the jealousy to hang like a cloud over her. Waited to feel hurt at him bringing up his ex, or irritation. But it never came. Y/N felt secure with him. Secure in their relationship and it was a relief to finally find herself on solid ground. Dot wasn’t a threat anymore.

“Of course.” Y/N replied softly, curious about what he was getting at.

Nodding, his dark bangs fell in his eyes, but he didn’t brush them away, “Most of the time, I just didn’t sleep. I’d let her fall asleep with me and then get up and go watch tv or something.” He took a deep breath and let it out in one harsh sigh, “But there was one night where I accidentally nodded off. I was just so tired, and I figured I might be exhausted enough to not dream. Hoped I wouldn’t.”

“You had a nightmare?” She asked, stepping closer. When he winced at her movement, she stilled and let him have his space. Only an arm’s length away but it felt too far. Awkward, she tucked her free hand in her back pockets and shuffled from foot to foot. Other hand still clasped around her necklace, she twisted it between her fingers.

Bucky met her eyes then, expression carefully blank, “I woke up with my hand around her throat.” There was no inflection in his tone. No emotion. Like he’d just dropped a stone into a pond and the ripples washed over her. The stone settled hard in her stomach.

Cold dread dripped like ice down her spine and her hand around her necklace drifted up to her throat. Her mouth opened, then closed as she tried to find words to say. Tried to find something to make him feel better, but nothing came. Just static in her ears and sand on her tongue.

“It was a miracle I didn’t hurt her.” He finished. His jaw tightened and he turned away, heading around the counter and towards the open space between the couch and door. Didn’t make a sound as he paced over to the table and picked up the remote, turning her TV off. The title screen music of Tangled abruptly cut off, and silence roared between them. Once he dropped the remote back down, where it clattered against the wood, he stood still.

Shoulders rigid and arms crossed, Bucky kept his back to her. He stared straight ahead towards her wall of windows; the setting sun warm as it stretched across her carpeted floor. It kissed his silhouette in a golden halo. Soft, but there was nothing else soft about him. Frustration made his words sharp as a razor, “It was getting better. I thought I was getting better and that I could—” He cleared his throat, trying to fight the tremors in it, “Thought we could, but now I don’t know.” Even with the thought unfinished, she got the gist of what he was getting at.

Thought he could take that step in the relationship.  
Thought they could fulfill the promise of helping each other with their nightmares.

Silent, Y/N turned and watched his back. Studied the way his hands kept tightening into fists and listened to the hum of the plates shifting in his arm. Still quiet, she closed the space between them. With each step she took, she could tell he felt her coming. Could see it in the way he was almost bracing himself for her. Despite feeling her there, he flinched when her hand pressed flat against his spine. Soothingly, she traced up his back and then down before she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Cuddled close and nuzzled her cheek between his shoulder blades, “Ok.”

“Ok…?” Bucky parroted her and she nodded her head against his back.

“I still want to sleep with you.” Y/N flushed painfully at the wording and hastily added, “Share a bed. Sleep.” The vibration of Bucky’s soft chuckle made her smile, and she sighed, “But if you’re not ready, I get it. I’m not scared of you.” The warmth of Bucky’s callused palm cupping over her own made her relax further against him, eyes falling closed, “And I can wait.”

“You should be.” He whispered and she defiantly shook her head. The plush material of his sweater was velvety against her skin. Snorting, Bucky’s metal fingers gently traced across her arm, from her elbow to her wrist. Goosebumps followed behind the cool touch and he wrapped his prosthetic hand around her wrist, his right still cupped over her own. He squeezed just barely. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make his point when he supplied, “I could break your bone without trying.”

“And I could knee you so hard in the dick that you wouldn’t walk straight for a month.” Y/N replied flatly, and Bucky barked out a loud, surprised laugh. It echoed across the walls and ceiling, then ricocheted straight to her heart. He bent over just a bit, releasing his hold on her wrist and tried to muffle his laughter as she finished, “But I won’t, and I know you won’t.”

Turning in her embrace, Bucky’s eyes danced vibrantly with laughter as he cupped her face with both his hands. It surprised her so much that her mouth opened in a soft gasp. It was the most he’d touched her with his left hand in a long while. Their eyes locked, and he searched her expression. Still like a statue in front of her. Without a word, she stood up on her tiptoes, wanting to feel his mouth. Right in that second, Y/N wanted to wash away whatever bitter feelings their conversation had swirled up between them. Just forget about it and let this dreadfully long day end with something sweet like the kiss beckoning to her on his lips.

“You’re exquisite.” Bucky whispered, the word forming against her lips like a revelation just for her. Then he kissed her, and the world seemed to begin and end at the touch of his mouth. An embarrassing keening noise left her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer.

Endearing promises flitted through her mind. Hundreds of things she wanted to tell him. Needed to say to him with after his compliment. Reluctantly, Y/N sat back on her heels, breaking the kiss, and whispered, “You’re…” She trailed off, tongue growing weak and forgetting what language to speak to explain what exactly he was to her. Especially when he seemed to be staring into her, seeing her. Not the body she resided in, but the soul deep inside her.

At her silence, Bucky brushed her hair back behind her ear and the light in his eyes dimmed just a fraction, “You deserve better than me.” He confessed and she frowned, but he ignored the expression and went on, “I want to do everything to make you happy, but I can’t. I meant it when I told you that I’m not ready for a relationship. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready and you deserve someone who can give you everything you want.” Every breath they took made their chests brush together and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, bunching his shirt under her hands to keep him from drifting away.

Every time she thought they were ok, he’d say something like this to drive a wedge between them. It was like he wanted to make her let him go. Bucky kept giving her a million different reasons to let him go.

“Don’t do that.” Y/N stated firmly, voice sharp enough to make him grimace. Harsh enough to make his eyes dart away in guilt. His hands came to rest on her hips and she cut him off before he could utter another word, “Don’t do that to me or you.” There was more heat behind her declaration than she intended, but the fire his words stoked inside her made her blood boil.

Eyebrows drawn low and a frown playing on his mouth, Bucky asked, “Do what?” His thumb brushed across the bare skin of her hip, just under her shirt. There was nothing sexual about it, just soothing. Grounding.

“Put me on a pedestal that I can’t live up to and make decisions for me. Just because you think I deserve better doesn’t mean it’s true.” She explained, tripping over some of her sentence because her mind raced far ahead of her tongue, “What I deserve doesn’t matter because what I want is you.” Her statement rang clear as a bell between them and seemed to shake him to the core. Visibly Bucky’s cheeks tinged pink, and he ducked his head till they were nearly nose to nose.

Eyes falling closed, Bucky took a measured breath and let it out slowly. Then he leaned the rest of the way down and let his forehead rest against hers. His hands drifted behind her and he stroked up her spine. Guided her closer and Y/N let her fingers brush through the silken hair at the base of his neck.

Every beat of her heart hurt at his extended silence. What if he didn’t listen? The train of thought inside her was spiraling down to a dark, irrational place. Emotions roared so viciously in her chest that Y/N felt her eyes burn and her voice grew thick with the tears she squeezed her eyes shut to hide, “Don’t talk yourself out of this relationship. Please. Don’t leave… just cause you think you can’t make me happy.” Her sentence broke harshly off, but she managed to confess, “B-Because you do.”

It was ridiculous that she wanted to cry. Completely insane because she’d thought she cried all her tears that morning. There shouldn’t be any left inside her. But she felt like a raw nerve and this argument with him scraped out the last emotional strength she had left. Like a finger scooping out the last bits of honey at the bottom of a jar. Leaving her vulnerable.

In the dark behind her eyelids, she heard him take in a sharp breath. Then he cursed and she felt a thumb brush across her cheek, smearing a tear away, “Really? Because I seem to just keep messing this up.”

Unable to open her eyes, fearing her self-control would snap, she shook her head, “Y-You don’t. I’m just a mess. I'm an artist, what else do you expect?” She forced a self-deprecating laugh, “Trust me, I was a wreck long before you.” His lips ghosted her cheek, kissing softly and he nuzzled his nose against hers affectionately.

Weakly, Bucky chuckled, and his fingers grazed her jaw, “Open you eyes sweetheart.” She shook her head again, and he sighed, “Please?” When Y/N just stubbornly squeezed them shut tighter, Bucky snorted and fell quiet for a second. Then she was surprised to feel something soft and wet brush her cheek. He licked away one of the tears that had slipped out and she squeaked in astonishment.

Eyes snapping open, she gaped at him, eyebrows up to her hairline. A few more tears escaped when she blinked up at him in bewilderment. and he smiled, tilting his head to the side, “That’s better.” Bucky snickered at the look on her face. Tear filled eyes wide and jaw dropped as she just studied him. At his heartbreakingly sweet smile, she wrinkled her nose into a pout. Then wiped at her damp cheek, waiting for him to explain what was so important that he had to resort to licking her.

Contemplative, Bucky bit his bottom lip and searched her face. Looking for something. After a long minute, he scrubbed a hand over his eyes and mouth and sighed, “I guess I’ve been trying to find reasons for you to leave. Because the longer you stay, the more I could hurt you.”

“Or I could hurt you.” Y/N interjected, managing nothing more than a whisper. She kept her arms at her sides, forcing herself not to move. If she did, she wasn’t sure if she’d reach out to him for comfort or run and hide so he couldn’t see her cry anymore.

Reluctant, he nodded, ocean blues flickering from her own, and then down to their feet, “You could.” A bittersweet, crooked smile greeted her when he added, “But I’d feel worse if I hurt you. I’d rather you hurt me.” If that was supposed to comfort her, it failed miserably.

Shaking her head, she felt frustration budding like droplets of blood from the cuts her exhaustion scrapped across her insides. It made her grow impatient with him because Bucky wasn’t getting it. Being a martyr hurt her. Acting like she’d be better off leaving than facing their combined issues together, hurt her. So, she shook her head, hair falling haphazardly in her face and bit out, “Instead of pointing out all these issues and saying it would be better if I left because I deserve better, why don’t you try to fix it? Make yourself that better person so we can both end up happy?”

Instantly, Bucky winced and squeezed his hands into fists at his sides. Eyes locked on her own, he swallowed, “It’s not that easy.” It looked like he might say something else, but she jumped in before he got the chance to argue.

Eyes narrowed, Y/N snorted humorlessly, “No. It’s not. I know it’s not but it’s the only way this will work.” She took in a breath, forcing her annoyance to drain out of her as she uncurled her fists, “And I’d like to think what we have is worth the work.” Hesitantly, she reached forward and took his hand. Their fingers interlaced effortlessly, and she watched as his thumb stroked her own.

“It is.” Bucky whispered, stepping closer still, until they were nearly nose to nose again.

Hopeful, she stared up at him, making herself stand up straighter. Just exhausted honesty flowed from her heart, “I want to help, but I can’t if you don’t help yourself. If you don’t want this, tell me, but don’t make me leave and call it for my own good.” She squeezed his hand.

At her questioning look, Bucky weakly nodded. Once. Then he let out a breath, a watery smirk making his eyes soften, “At this point, even if it was for your own good, I don’t think I could walk away now.” He chuckled, and the sound made her smile, “In too deep.”

“Good.” Y/N shot in with a playful scowl. She sniffed, wiping under her eyes with her free hand. Fatigue swept over her like a wave. She was so tired, “Bucky…” She started, ready to just tell him to let it go. Whatever they needed to talk about could wait till later. Maybe tomorrow.

“Just let me finish.” He released her hand and caught her shoulders before she could step away. At her attention back on him, he rubbed her arms. Down to her elbows, then back up. The metal cold on her skin, “You’re right. Instead of just pointing out my flaws, I should try to fix them. For you and me. I promise I’m going to try. Try to be better. Just… don’t cry anymore.” Bucky bit his lip, eyeing her warily, like she might just suddenly start sobbing again. Which was likely. Still, the comment made her snort.

“I’ll do my best.” Y/N drawled dryly, hands coming up to touch his chest. She felt up the front of his shirt and let her hands rest on his shoulders. She let Bucky draw her into a loose embrace and relaxed her weight against him. Drawing comfort from the touch.

“Thank you.” He let his shoulders dramatically droop, like she’d offered something to give him great relief. He gave her a weary look, only made more impressive by the bruise still staining the skin of his jaw, “You’ve got no idea how much it hurts when you cry.”

Before she could reply, there was a knock at her door, and she frowned. Letting her reply drop, Y/N stepped away and walked the few short steps to her door. When she opened it, she found that she wasn’t surprised to see Peter standing there.

A sheepish, lopsided smile made his brown eyes light up when he looked at her. Then he frowned at the expression on her face. He held his gloves in his hands, twisting them nervously before giving a small wave, “Hey.” Peter managed.

“Couldn’t wait?” Y/N asked sarcastically, warmth behind the question even as she gave him a weak glare. She held the door open for him, letting him come inside.

Wary, Peter’s eyes landed on Bucky as he stepped inside. She locked the door quietly behind him, shivering at the cool draft it had let in. Obviously not surprised, he started untying his shoes, mud clinging to them, “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” He supplied, and she snorted a laugh.

Tension filled the air, and she noticed the unreadable frown on Bucky’s face. His sharp blues tracked Peter’s movement, and she inwardly winced, nervous. Before she could run interference, Bucky took two short steps towards Peter. To her friend’s credit, he didn’t flinch when he stood up straight and saw Bucky hovering over him.

Nervous, Peter’s gaze flickered to Bucky’s bare metal arm, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he held his palms up and said, “Hey man, look I’m sorry—”

Before he could finish, Bucky shook his head and cut in, “I’m sorry.” Surprise and delight bloomed in Y/N’s chest as she watched the uncomfortable, nervous emotions making Bucky’s nose wrinkle, “I was an ass and you didn’t deserve that.” He stood a health distance away and rubbed the back of his neck.

Shocked silent, it took Peter a second to nod and clear his throat awkwardly, “It’s alright.” He smirked, the expression making his brown eyes warm, “I didn’t help. Let’s just forget about it. Ok? Start over?” He offered, and Bucky nodded, a half-smile making his features soften.

“I’d like that.” The taller man stuck out his right hand to Peter’s chest. For a handshake. Peter hesitated only a second before taking it.

Grinning, Peter shook his hand with enthusiasm, “I brought over the new Spiderman movie.” He let go of Bucky’s hand to pull Spiderman Homecoming out of his coat pocket, “Want to stick around and watch it with us?” He waved it temptingly in front of Bucky’s face, unzipping his coat.

Shaking his head, Bucky stepped around Peter to pull on his boots, “Nah, I’ve got to be heading out.” He was relaxed and confident in his actions and tone. As if they hadn’t just been having a serious conversation. Boot in hand, he leaned against the wall and tugged it on, dropping down to tighten up his shoelaces.

Disappointment made Y/N’s chest burn all the way up to the back of her tongue. Worried, Peter met her eyes and she gestured for him to go further into the living room. Give her and Bucky some privacy. Taking the hint, he strolled around the futon towards the TV and started sorting out the movie.

Suddenly nervous again, she approached Bucky as he shrugged into his coat. He smiled at her and patted his pockets for his keys and wallet. Weakly, she smiled back and rubbed her left arm with her hand, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Lightly, Bucky nodded, “I’ll come here straight after work.” He agreed, checking his phone and tucking it into his back pocket. Then he tilted his head, frowning, “C’mon, don’t give me that look. We’ll be off to the mountains in no time.” He teased and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Firmly, he tugged her against him into a tight hug.

Lips against her ear, he whispered, “We’re ok, right?” The feeling of his warm breath against her ear had heat coiling in her belly. She let herself nuzzle against his chest for a second, hands bunching under his jacket against his shirt.

Humming in agreement, Y/N tilted her head up and brushed a kiss against his cheek, “Of course.” And she meant it. They were ok. There were still some obvious issues, but she wasn’t upset with him anymore. More than anything, she just didn’t want him to go.

“And—” Bucky hesitated for a second before he leaned back just far enough to meet her eyes, “You’re ok?” He cupped her cheek, searching her for any clues that might be written in her expression.

If she told him the truth, she wasn’t sure what he’d do. And if she was being honest, her answer was more complicated than he could ever guess. So, she gave him a sweet smile and replied, “Ya, I’ll be alright. Just tired from the flight and my trip. Ya know?”

Had she just been on a plane this morning? It felt like she’d read Jason’s letter weeks, or even months ago.

Unconvinced, he held her gaze for a few long seconds before simply sighing and leaning forward to kiss her forehead, “I’ll text you when I get home.” His lips brushed her cheek and she turned her head, catching him in a tender kiss.

“See you tomorrow.” Y/N took a step back when he opened the door. Bucky gave her one more heart stuttering little grin, and then he was gone. The door shut with a barely audible click and she listened to his footsteps fade away down the hall.

Silence consumed the air of her apartment for a long minute. Her eyes stared, unseeing, at the muddy spot where his boots had been. Where Peter’s shoes now rested. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly shot out of her skin. Whirling around, she found Peter watching her with a grim frown.

“Are you really ok?” He asked quietly, and her heart ached with all the implications that question held.

The letter. Jason. His words. The history. The relationship. All the hurt. It swept back up out of the depths of her mind in a whirlwind.  
How was she even supposed to deal with all of this?

“No.” Y/N whispered and crossed her arms around herself. She squeezed her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms. It felt like she was nothing but a ghost of a person. An empty jar that once held honey, but someone had scrapped her insides clean.  
Then knocked her off the counter, leaving her to fall and smash apart.

As if expecting that, Peter nodded, and his eyes flickered over her defensive posture. He squeezed her shoulder once and then stepped away, giving her space, “Want to talk about it?”  
If she just didn’t think about it. Just held it together till it passed and didn’t matter… she could be ok. It wasn’t that bad.

Instantly, she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, “No but—” She grimaced and forced herself to stop running from it. To try and lean on someone else. Lean on her best friend. Who she’d known for nearly 6 years. If she couldn’t open up to Peter, then what hope did she have?

Reluctantly, Y/N met his eyes as her own started to burn, “But I need to.”


	17. Painting Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have made it! I didn't know if I'd ever get this far to even deserve the warning....  
> We've got smut in this chapter! I've finally done it!  
> From here on out, smut will be sprinkled here and there. Probably not every chapter buuut if the moment fits~  
> Hope you like it. Lots of fluff in this one. Let me know what you think <3  
> As always I hope you enjoy it!

The TV was turned down low. Spiderman Homecoming played quietly in the background. Every so often, when words failed her, Y/N focused back in on the movie and tried to collect her thoughts. It really was a great movie and she’d have to watch it again eventually. Even the lights were low. The last of the sun had faded into twilight, and only the lights in the kitchen and one of the lamps illuminated the space of her living room.

Feet tucked up under her fleece blanket, she leaned back against the armrest and studied Peter across from her. He sat like her with his legs crossed and the blanket pooling in his lap. Grimly, he stretched over and dropped Jason’s letter back on the coffee table. His hands trembled and he clenched them into fists. There was a storm of emotions behind his eyes. After attempting to explain everything, she ended up just letting him read it for himself.

Closing his eyes, he took in a breath and the tension radiating from him drained out of his bones when he let that breath back out. Focus back on her, he took only a second to collect his thoughts, “Why haven’t you told Bucky?” Peter asked gently, but she winced regardless. Then averted her eyes as she tried to not let him read the secrets of her heart on her face.

Stiff, she rolled her eyes and briefly flashed him a smirk, but it didn’t feel quite right. Still, she asked him incredulously, “Why do you care so much about what I tell him or not? It’s not like you two are friends.” It wasn’t what she should be saying, but it came out anyway.

“No but he’s not a bad guy.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed and he waved a hand towards the front door, “He might be an ass, but he apologized. He didn’t even make a big deal out of me dropping in on you two.” He let his hands fall back into his lap and playfully scoffed, “Might not be my favorite person, but you could have done worse.”

“I have done worse.” Y/N joked dryly, and pursed her lips, “He is a good guy isn’t he.” It wasn’t really a question. Fondness painted her words and a hopeful smile pulled at the corner of her mouth when he nodded.

“So why haven’t you told him about this?” He questioned again, picking at his short nails.

Plucking nervously at a loose thread on the hem of the blanket, she shrugged, “Things are good with us and still new. I don’t want to mess it up by throwing all this on him.” Shoulders tight, she brought up her knees and folded her arms on top of them. It took everything she had not to fold in on herself and just stop. Today was doing a number on her nerves and she wanted it to be over.

Concern etched across his features, Peter leaned forward and let his elbows rest on his crossed legs, “You won’t be messing it up. If you can’t be honest with him—”

“Of course I can.” Y/N interjected, trying to keep the bite out of her tone. He looked less than convinced, so she stressed, “It’s not that I don’t trust him. I do. I’m just…” The emotion was bitter on her tongue, but she forced it past her teeth, “I’m scared.”

Brown as the earth, Peter’s eyes were warm and nonjudgmental when he pressed, “Of what?” Worry made his eyebrows pinch together and his teeth scraped over his bottom lip.

“If I explain the letter. I’ve got to explain the relationship. And what if…” She clenched her fingers into the blanket, digging into it to keep from scratching her prickling skin, “What if Buck sees me differently?” It sounded pitiful and small. As irritational as she kept telling herself the worries in her heart were. But that didn’t make her demons disappear.

Shaking his head, Peter gestured between them with his hands, “I don’t. And I know pretty much all of it.” He tugged the long sleeves of his green shirt over his knuckles. The shirt was loose on his lean frame, and brought out the flecks on green in his chocolate eyes.

“But you were there!” Y/N snorted a bitter laugh, hair tumbling over her shoulders as she curled in tighter around her knees, “You lived through part of it with me. You helped me through the worst of it.” The heat in her voice died like cooling embers and she finished in a whisper, “It’s different.”

Leaning closer, he touched her shin to get her attention, “It’s not.” He gave her a sweet smile, “You are an amazing person. Nothing in your past can change that” His hand was warm through the blanket and the touch brought her back to the moment. It helped quiet the roaring of her mind.

“Ya but he sees me as this… this perfectly healthy and well-adjusted college girl. An artist with a job who’s got it all figured out and maybe some issues but nothing like this.” Y/N’s words came out in rapid fire bullet fashion. Emotion burned the back of her throat and she blinked away the heat in her tender eyes. She was tired of crying.

“You’re all those things, even with the history.” He cut in and poked her shin with his finger as he firmly stated, “And if he can’t see that, then you deserve better.” His short brown waves fell over his forehead, and his feelings were written all over his face for her to read. Concern, empathy, and love.

It felt like she’d been forced to say this one too many times today, “But I don’t want better. I want him.” And it felt like every time she said it, it came out more childish and pathetic than the time before. If Bucky rejected her because of her history, she couldn’t really blame him. Truthfully, she had a ton of baggage strapped to her back. Therapy and healing had helped, but there would always be scars. Physical and emotional.

And Y/N was so afraid of Bucky walking away because he realized she wasn’t as confident, and carefree as she acted. It wasn’t that she’d been living a lie for him these last few months, but she had darker parts of her heart than most people cared to realize.

Shrugging, Peter carded his fingers through his wavy hair and puffed out his cheeks, “Then let him really get to know you. It’d be better if he found out from you, then by Jason showing up out of the blue.” They both winced at that last thought. It wasn’t likely, but it was a possibility.

Afterall, she’d had to move off campus for that exact reason after their last breakup. He just kept coming by, even when she didn’t want anything to do with him. Luckily, after the accident, he’d been committed to a hospital back in Queens, and wasn’t allowed anywhere near Manhattan.

There was a long pause, where Y/N stared down at her feet, thinking. Quiet, Peter rubbed her knee soothingly, watching the movie as he waited. She wiggled her toes under the fuzzy black blanket. Pins and needles pricked her skin. Feet falling asleep from being curled up for too long. Then let out a breath, not looking up, “Do you think… I should tell him all of it?” The question came out weaker than she intended. More hesitant and even a bit doleful.

“Not all at once.” Peter offered, dropping his hand off her knee, “Just, enough. So, he can understand and not be blindsided if this gets worse.” He pointed to the letter, “And so you don’t have to hide from him.” He tapped the back of her hand where it rested against her knee, “I’ll always be here. To help. Whenever but… If Bucky’s really the guy you think he is, he’d want to be too.”

A small, barely-there smirk made her mouth reluctantly tilt up and Y/N finally met his eyes, “When’d you get so smart?” Her voice cracked, like she was truly wrung out inside, with nothing left to make her tongue work right. Bending over, she plucked her water bottle up from the coffee table and took a long drink. Plastic crackled in her hand from holding it too tight.

Eyebrow arched, Peter snickered and sat up straighter, striking a dramatic pose, “You’ve just never appreciated me!” Chest puffed up, muscles flexed and lips tight with an overly stoic expression, he kind of looked like a newly christened superhero.

Her composure dissolved into giggles, near hysterical from the emotional rollercoaster her day had turned into. Resolve formed in her chest and she nodded, huffing out a breath and shoving her hair back out of her face, “I’ll tell him after the trip.”

Skeptical, Peter cocked his head and propped one elbow on the back of the futon, “Think you should wait that long?” He let one of his feet drop to the floor, unwinding his long body and stretching out.

Stubbornly, she nodded, screwing the lid back on the bottle and dropping it beside her feet, “I just want to have one good week. Then I’ll deal with all that—” She waved a hand towards the letter, “When we get back. What’s the rush anyway?”

Humming noncommittally, he let his cheek rest against his hand, “Fair enough.” There was still a twinkle of worry in his eyes, but she didn’t acknowledge it. And neither did he.

 

 

 

**December 28 th**

Unsurprisingly, she slept like the dead that night, and only woke up to Darcy calling her around 11. After their talk, she and Peter started the movie over and watched it from start to finish. Then he’d finally gone home when she started to drift off on the futon.

She’d barely managed to stumble her way to her bed.

Jeans in hand, Y/N shook them out and just finished folding them when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist. Fear and shock exploded through her heart like a bullet. Instantly, she dropped the jeans to the cement floor and knocked her elbow sharply back into her assailant’s stomach. A loud grunt and curse echoed through the empty basement. It was only then that she noticed one of the arms falling off her was too rigid to be skin and bone.

Appalled, she whipped around and held her hands up in apology, “I’m so sorry!” She rushed out, taking in Bucky doubled over with a hand on his stomach, “Are you ok?” Wheezing laughter resounded through the laundry room. The only answer she got. Every so often, it was broken up by him taking in a sharp breath. Hand over her mouth, she tried to stifle her own giggles. It shouldn’t be as funny as it was, but his cheeks were red, and his expression was caught between a grimace and grin.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Bucky finally managed to choke out, straightening himself up. He took in a deep breath, still rubbing at his abdomen, just below his ribs. Despite having just been assaulted, Bucky barely looked ruffled.

Today he traded in his worn leather jacket for a long black coat, unbuttoned and folded over his arm. A nondescript dark blue hoodie half zipped and dark blue jeans. His Rosalie’s work shirt peeked out from underneath and there was a dusting of flour on his boots and jeans. Pink stained his cheeks, and the bruise along his jaw had faded to a mostly muddled yellow.

Roguishly handsome with all hard edges, but soft eyes just for her.  
Bucky made her weak.

The dryer with her last bit of laundry buzzed behind her, making her snap to attention. With a playful glare, Y/N shook her head, “Really? Cause you about gave me a heart attack!” She pressed a hand to her chest and made a show of fanning herself. Like she’d been on the verge of fainting. Then she turned and made her way to the dryer, taking out the small load of whites. When she glanced over her shoulder, she flashed him a mischievous smile.

Scoffing, Bucky held up a crinkled brown paper bag, shaking it at her, “Think you could ever forgive me?” Curious, she eyed the bag for a second before turning back to the dryer. Like a heated caress, she could feel his gaze on her as she bent over, prodding the towels to see if they were truly dry.

“Nope.” She bit her bottom lip to keep a straight face, popping the P at the end of the sentence. Arms full of warm clothes, she stood up and knocked the dryer door closed with her hip. Careful to not drop any, she strolled past Bucky in the doorway. Then deposited the load next to her basket on a long rickety table. Hands free, she picked up her jeans from the floor and neatly folded them back, dropping them in her basket. She’d ended up needing two mismatched baskets just to bring everything down. But that wasn’t really anything new.

Leisurely, Bucky made a show of unfolding the paper bag. The crinkling of paper tickled her ears and he sighed forlornly, “Well that’s just too bad. Got any idea what I should do with this?” He fished out a fluffy, perfectly golden muffin. Straight from Rosalie’s Bakery. It was her favorite. He held it up, as if inspecting it, “Guess I’ll just have to eat this one too.” He dropped his coat beside her basket, taking up the last bit of the table, and casually tossed the muffin from one hand to the other.

Dropping the tank top she’d been in the middle of folding, Y/N practically tackled him. With just two steps, she flung her arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug. He let out a surprised OOF, holding the muffin up out of her reach above his head, “You’re forgiven!” She giggled, “Now give me!”

Impishly, she stretched up on her tiptoes and swiped at the muffin. But even then, she couldn’t reach it. Bucky held it far above her head and stumbled back just a step before he balanced back with her weight added onto his. Mischievous blue eyes met her pleading ones, and he quirked a brow at her.

“You sure it’s enough?” Bucky asked, smirking when she pouted up at him, “I wouldn’t wanna cheat you.” He wrapped his right arm loosely around her waist. His hold on her tightened minutely, hugging her even as he stretched the muffin just out of her reach.

Rocking up on her tiptoes, she balanced herself with her hands on his shoulders, “Mn true. Give me a kiss and fold the rest of my clothes and we’ll call it good.” She bit her lip but her barely contained grin was obvious. Bucky’s answering smile was tender and sparked life all the way down to her toes.

“Seems only fair.” He mused, and locked his arm behind her back, dipping her just enough to make her unbalanced. Then he closed the last bit of space between them, kissing her firmly. His mouth was cool from the crisp air outside and he bunched up the back of her sweater when she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. As soon as he he relaxed further against her and his arm lowered from the air to his side, she struck.

Snatching the muffin from his gloved hand, she twisted away from him. Only stumbled a few treacherous steps before she righted herself. Then skipped back with a victorious cheer. Bucky gaped at her, rolling his eyes, “Oh I see how it is. You like food better than me!” He accused.

Smoothly, Y/N hopped up onto a closed washing machine next to her pile of clothes, “Always.” She teased, plucking a piece of crust and popped it into her mouth. It practically melted on her tongue and she hummed in satisfaction.

Scandalized, Bucky snorted and shook his head, “Good to know where I stand on your priorities.” He came over to stand beside her and she bumped the toe of her sneaker against his hip, giving him a sweet smile when he eyed her suspiciously.

Amused, she pulled off a piece of muffin and offered it to him. Shirt in hand, Bucky stooped over and ate the sugary treat straight from her fingers. A small shock shot to her belly when his tongue brushed her fingertips. He winked when he noticed the blush creeping across the bridge of her nose and shook some wrinkles from the white t-shirt in his hands.

A comfortable flow of conversation passed between them as Bucky folded her whites and she ate the muffin he brought her. He told her about his day, and she shared her own. Mostly, she talked about her lunch with Darcy. It’d been a much-needed reprieve. They’d went to the nearby mall and ate at the food court. Then took their time looking at things they could never afford to walk off their meal. Darcy was always able to make her feel better.

After a small lull, Bucky finished the last of her towels and casually stated, “Dot messaged me today.” He glanced up at her, eyes cautious as he read her expression. Without looking away, he placed the towel in her deep blue basket with the rest. Disheveled strands of hair fell across his forehead and he pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows. Along with the long sleeves of his shirt, revealing the cool metal and smooth skin of his forearms.

It was the first time he’d mentioned Dot in a good while. As far as Y/N knew, they hadn’t really spoken since the redhead completely cut off their relationship. After they had their last one-night stand and decided to end it. Still, her stomach twisted unpleasantly, and she crumbled up the wrapper from the muffin. Crumbs stuck to her fingers and she dusted them off.

“What did she want?” She asked, eyebrows creased as she watched him in return. Absently, she dropped the little paper ball in the trashcan beside the table. The heels of her feet drummed against the washer, making an echoing hollow with each thud.

Silently, Bucky stepped closer to her, moving to stand between her legs so they were eyelevel. He let his hands rest on her knees. The touch made her feel a bit better. Grounded her. Eyes on hers, he shrugged, “Just wanted to get coffee. She’s at her parents for the New Year. Wanted to meet up before I left for the trip.” He searched her features attentively. For clues on what she was thinking.

Disappointed, Y/N nodded, already figuring out what she’d do with the rest of her night after he left. Maybe a quiet night alone wouldn’t be so bad. She could draw. Maybe read some of the books she’d collected over the last few weeks but hadn’t gotten around to touching.

Of course, she would understand why he’d want to go catch up with his friend. They barely had any opportunities to see one another. With Dot living so far away. Bucky probably wanted to clear things up since they hadn’t left off on good terms the last time, they’d seen each other.

It was only fair, considering Bucky had left so she could spend time with Peter just last night.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she gave him a weak smile, “When you going to meet her?” She fidgeted with the edges of her soft pastel sweater, twisting the hem between her fingers.

It was his turn to frown. The basement pipes above their head clanked loudly as water rushed through them. It was mostly quiet down there. Nothing but dust and cobwebs and cleaning supplies. He rubbed his hands up her thighs, then back down. His voice was quiet when he explained, “I told her no.”

Guilty pleasure made her heart skip as his statement rushed through her, “Really? Why?” She reached forward and took his hands in her own and he let her. Let her turn his palms over so she could clasp all his fingers with her own. The leather glove was smooth and cool under her touch. This was getting easier. Bucky was starting to trust her. And trust himself not to hurt her.

A devious smirk made his eyes dance mischievously, and he leaned closer to her, “I told her I was busy. Spending the night with my girlfriend.”

Surprise made her tongue freeze. Owlishly, Y/N blinked once. Then twice. At her silence, Bucky frowned, a flash of nervousness made his eyes dart away. He chuckled and ducked his head sheepishly, “I mean, I hope that’s ok. If you want. Me to stay.” He peeked up at her, uncertainly.

Excited, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him instead of figuring out what to say. A low groan answered her, and she brushed her tongue across the seam of his mouth, shivering at the immediate parting of his lips. Then they were breathing each other’s air and she broke the kiss to ask, “You’re not planning to sleep on the futon, right?”

Bucky’s laugh was sweet and deep, “I was thinking the bed might be more comfortable.” There was a husky, intimate drawl to his words that had her toes curling in her shoes.

“I might steal your blankets.” Y/N warned, and she met his eyes with a bright smile that mirrored his. Her thumb brushed across his cheek, feeling the sweet curve of his expression.

“And I snore.” He snipped back, leaning forward to brush their lips together for a second. Between their breaths and words. Like he couldn’t help but be affectionate with her.

Playfully, she frowned, as if she were truly troubled by the thought, “Me too. Man, we might not sleep at all.” Another kiss. It felt like sunshine was lighting up her veins. So full and bright that she thought she might be glowing.

Shrugging, he slipped his fingers through the hem of her black sweats, “Don’t sleep much anyway.” Then he was kissing her neck and she thought she might not mind it if he took her right then and there. On top of that washing machine in this drafty, leaky basement.

“Me either. Nightmares are a bitch.” She shivered when his thumb brushed the line of her hip, pulling her closer with the material. Until her hips were back flush against his and she could feel every bend of the rough material of his jeans through her thin sweatpants. His finger slipped just under the edge of her panties, and it was an effort to keep her voice even, “It’ll be a good night.”

“I’m counting on it.” Bucky smirked, squeezing her sides once. Then he removed his hands and letting his arms rest on her shoulders, fingers curling around a strand of her hair. The edge of the licking fire in her belly tampered down, and she let her hands slid from his jaw to his neck, just under his hoodie and collar.

Unable to help herself, Y/N asked, “Was Dot really upset?” Part of her was crawling with curiosity, but she didn’t know how much she should even ask. She wasn’t entirely sure where the boundaries were here because they hadn’t talked too much about exes.

The smirk faded and he grew a bit more serious, but he didn’t pull away, “Mostly surprised, I think. She said she was happy for me.” He shrugged, tugging lightly at the hair twisted around his finger. The fingers in her hair released, combing through the strands from root to ends, chasing out any tangles. It was deliciously soothing.

“You sure she really meant it? Girls don’t always mean what they say.” She brushed her fingers through the hair along the nap of his neck, keeping her words and touch gentle.

Letting his forehead rest against hers, he gave a subtle shake of his head, “Don’t know, but I don’t really care either.” He replied matter-of-factly. The washer was cold through her plush sweats, but his proximity made her hot.  

Softly, she asked, “Don’t want to be friends?”

Thoughtful, Bucky was quiet for a little bit. He looked away and worried his bottom lip. He traced the pad of his thumb down the side of her neck, across her pulse. After a long moment, he sighed, “Not yet. I don’t want her out of my life forever, ya know? She’s one of my oldest friends. I just don’t think it’d be a good idea now. Not until we’ve had some time apart to get used to it, and then see if we can just be friends.”

“It’s hard to go back to just friends. Especially after you two were so close.” Y/N agreed, enjoying the way his shoulders relaxed at her words, and she tacked on, “If you want to be friends, I’m not going to stop you. Just don’t hide it from me, ok?”

“Ok.” He agreed, then cupped her face in his hands, “But right now, I can think of a million other things I’d rather be doing than talking about my old relationships.”

“You’re then one who brought it up!” Y/N retorted indignantly.

“Shut up.” Bucky grumbled fondly, kissing her before she had a chance to reply. All thoughts of breaking the kiss to gripe at him for being so rude vanished when he tilted his head and deepened it. Passionate heat had her skin singing. Firm hands guided her in the kiss, keeping her close and turning her chin up. Teeth scraped her bottom lip and his tongue soothed the small hurt.

Her fingers caught the zipper of his hoodie, and she guided it down. While their tongues danced, she slipped her cold hands under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his spine and broad back. Bucky jerked, “Fuck!” He hissed but didn’t protest beyond the initial shock. Heated blues met her own and she smirked as her nails lightly scratched from between his shoulder blades, and down his spine.

A satisfying groan caught in his throat, and she could see the moment he tried to suppress it. He swallowed and let his forehead rest against her own, “Babydoll,” The endearment came out huskily. Rough and tender all at once. Y/N shivered in response and he continued, “I don’t know how well I can keep control of myself if we keep doing this.”

Before she could really think about all the implications of what he was saying, she muttered, “Then don’t.” And kissed him again. His answering moan shot through her like a arrow to her core. Bucky’s hands found their way up under her t-shirt, and he stroked his thumb beneath the hem of her bra. Her skin prickled at the gentle touch and her breath came in quicker, tongue tracing across his. The kiss tasted like sugar and him. A perfect mix of human and sweet and heat.

His left hand gripped her thigh, hooking it up on his hip so he could grind against her. Slowly, Bucky rolled his thumb over her perked nipple, pushing her bra up and out of the way. Y/N broke the kiss to bite softly at his jaw, “Sweetheart,” She wasn’t entirely sure what she was about to say. Her mind was barely anything more than a throbbing, aching need. The racing pulse of her heart echoed in her ears.

“Doll?” He asked, grazing his teeth across her earlobe. Her hands explored up his chest, enjoying the hard, cut muscles under her palms.

Then she froze. Heavy footsteps clambered down the stairs of the basement. Bucky jerked away from her like he’d been burnt, and Y/N rushed to smooth out her shirt. Then yanked up her sweater, wrapping it around herself. Ran a shaky hand through her hair and watched as he straightened his hoodie. Then tugged at his too-tight jeans, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position.

Heavy basket in hand, an older woman with white hair and stern eyes made her way in. Her sharp gaze immediately landed on them, and she blinked in surprise. Her brown eyes lingered on them for a few long seconds. Then she sniffed disapprovingly and turned away. Unamused, she made her way to one of the washers across the room and began sorting through her things.

A hot, scarlet blush barreled through Y/N’s entire body, and she peeked over at Bucky, who grimaced. He rubbed the back of his neck, and when their gazes locked, she had to cover her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Hopping off the washer, she grabbed one of her baskets while he carried the other. Together, they made a hasty retreat out of the room and up the stairs.

Halfway up to the first floor, she couldn’t contain the giggles anymore. Nearly stumbling over a step, she leaned against the cold cement wall to her left and snorted, “Her face!”

Across from her, Bucky hugged the basket against his chest and succumbed to laughter, shaking his head, “She had to know!” He covered his face with his gloved hand, obviously embarrassed.

“So awkward!” Y/N cried, conflicted about whether she should hide away in shame or really care at all. But when Bucky beamed at her, and butterflies flew free through her stomach, she decided that she couldn’t care about much else.

Not when she could still feel his hands on her body and taste him on her mouth.

 

 

 

“We have to get up early.” Bucky mused, flipping his card over. A king. Y/N showed her own, a 2 of hearts. He smirked and collected their cards to join his growing pile. War was supposed to be a game of chance, but it seemed like he had an endless fountain of luck.

Sitting cross-legged across from him, Y/N tapped her cards against her palm, “When’s the flight again?” They were sprawled on her bed, just playing various card games to pass the time. Better than always watching movies.

“Tony thought it would be fun to make our flight at 8. Steve’s meeting us at the airport.” Bucky smirked, laying a card between them, “He’s being nice enough to bring my bags.”

“Can’t believe you forgot them.” She snorted, bouncing happily when she won the round and scooped up his cards. Bucky had come over straight from work. Didn’t bring a change of clothes or anything. Apparently, he’d decided on his way over that he’d be staying the night. A last minute, impulsive decision, but she wouldn’t dare complain.

Rolling his eyes, he scowled, “Excuse me. I was excited to come see my girlfriend.” Something warm and floaty took up residence inside of her, replacing her organs with bubbles and honey. Whenever he said things like that, it became harder to breathe.

“Isn’t it out of his way to swing by your apartment?” Y/N raised her eyebrows, only to wrinkle her nose when he won the round. Her handful of cards was growing pitifully little. The colorful comforter beneath her was soft and her entire being hummed with contentment. Despite the losing streak Bucky had her running, she felt good. This was the kind of afternoon she needed after the day before.

This bubble of happiness they floated in was what she had counted on to make her feel better. Everything was easier to ignore when she could just focus on the here and now and him.

Distracted, Bucky shuffled his handful of cards around and stretched. Arm above his head, he covered his mouth with metal hand and fought off a yawn, words muffled when he answered, “Mn, no. Just has to go down one floor.” He took the bottom half of the pile and flipped it to the top before finally laying another card on the comforter near her knee. Dry, heated air tickled the back of her neck from the vent, hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head.

Confused, Y/N tilted her head and quirked a brow, “He lives in your building…?” That was news. Understanding crept on her slowly and she gaped at him, “Wait… he was just one floor up when I stayed the night? Why were you talking to him on the phone then?”

Snorting, he rolled his gaze up to the ceiling, as if pained, “Punk is seriously a busybody. If I let him pop in whenever he wanted, he’d never leave. I called him to keep him from barging in.” He smirked when he noticed she was down to only a few cards, but didn’t comment on it, “He’s got a key and owes me a favor.”

Attention on her cards, Y/N hummed in understanding and smiled when she won that round. Then the round after. Undoubtedly, she was managing to stay in the game by a thin shred of luck. The clock next to her bed glowed 9pm. They’d have to wrap this up soon. But maybe just a little longer. She needed a little more time to fight off the nervous apprehension about going to bed with him.

Another few minutes passed before she asked, “Why didn’t you and Steve just move in together? You’re living in the same building, wouldn’t it have been easier?” The soft lamplight near her headboard cast gentle shadows across his eyes and features. It glowed like crystalized amber across the steel of his arm. Long sleeves rolled up, and hoodie discarded, the thin cotton material of his shirt stretched taunt across his chest and arms.

Shoulders tight, Bucky didn’t look at her, just staring down at their cards as they kept playing smoothly. His jaw clenched, like he was testing the words in his mouth before he spoke them aloud. But slow and steady, he replied, “After we got back from overseas, I stayed with him for a few months. But I was so messed up, and he cared too much, ya know? He had his own stuff that he wasn’t dealing with because he was too busy trying to fix me.” He cleared his throat at the end, like he had to unstick the words from his chest.

“So, you moved out to give him space?” Y/N guessed, the cards in her hands were starting to feel a bit sweaty. More and more, Bucky filled in the spaces of his story for her and painted her a picture of his life. Just one brush stroke at a time. Maybe a little slow. Sometimes a bit erratically. But it was getting clearer. And occasionally, like now, his story made her chest hurt sympathetically, but she could handle it. She wanted to take some of that weight off his shoulders.

“Him and me both.” Bucky finally looked up at her and gave a weak smile. It glimmered in his eyes and made the shadows soften, “It’s better now, and I like having my own place. Plus, it’s not like he’s very far. He never lets me forget it either.” He took up the cards between them, and chuckled, “Think I won.”

Eyes wide, Y/N glanced down and realized she only had three cards left in her hands. Scowling, she threw them at him, and he squawked when they hit him in the chin and chest. He flailed, as if to swat them away, but they floated harmlessly into his lap.

“Sore loser!” He cackled, much to her displeasure. The grin lit up his entire face, making him appear younger and less solemn than usual. Shaking his head, he gathered all the stray cards across the bed, the grin fading into something self-satisfied.

“Show off!” She spat back, laughing when he glared at her. Bucky finished collected their cards, tucking them away, and leaned across the bed to place the box on her nightstand.

“Again…” He drew out the word, moving with it as he tilted forward until their noses were nearly touching. Then he pecked a kiss on her lips, and annunciated pointedly, “Sore. Loser.” He snorted a laugh when she smacked his shoulder and shoved him away in retaliation.

The apartment was dark, except for the lamp on her nightstand. It created a soft glow around her bed. Intimate and warm. All her stuff was packed and away behind the futon in the living room. They were really leaving tomorrow. Off on their first vacation as a couple… or even really as friends. Because they were friends before everything else. That was one of her favorite parts about their relationship.

Fireflies flickered to life inside of her. Glowing and warm and fluttering around her lungs and humming through her bones. Bucky rolled off the bed and shook out his cramped legs, “We need to be there by 7:30 to find Steve.” He stated, grabbing his bottle of water off the bed and finishing it off. That meant they had to be up at an ungodly hour in the morning.

“Then we should probably get some sleep.” Y/N agreed, sounding a hell of a lot more casual than she felt. Twisting the hem of her shirt in her fingers, she tried to control the nerves that had suddenly dripped into her veins. Suddenly tense, she stood up too, needing to change into something lighter than sweats and a t-shirt. Padding over to her dresser, she tried to keep her breathing even and not overthink what was coming next.

“Got a toothbrush I can use?” He asked sheepishly, throwing the bottle into the trashcan next to her bed. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and scratched at his disheveled hair. The air grew thick with a hum of anticipation and she tried to keep her attention on her actions, rather than the handsome man getting ready for bed behind her.

Riffling through the drawer of her dresser, she nodded absentmindedly and waved towards the bathroom, “Behind the mirror, above the sink. I’ve got some extras.”

While Bucky was in the bathroom, she slipped on a pair of running shorts that barely covered anything. Nearly fell over trying to throw her pants off and get into them before he got out of the bathroom. Water rushed from the sink, and she could hear him shifting through her cabinet. If he came back out while she was changing, Y/N thought she might have a heart attack.

Then she debated the downsides of sleeping in a bra. Uncomfortable but cute. But decided against it, covering up with a loose, cute tank top. Bra long gone. The air was nippy on her bare skin, accenting every curve and dimple left to the elements. She felt obscenely under dressed, but normally she didn’t even sleep in shorts. This was… awkward.

Was it always going to be this awkward?

“Is it ok if I sleep in my—” Bucky cut off whatever he was about to ask, stopping just outside the doorway of her bathroom, and staring at her. The bathroom light created a halo around his silhouette, but his eyes were bright even in stark shadows. He’d lost his overshirt, leaving him in nothing but jeans and a white wifebeater. The jeans hung low on his hips, and her eyes caught on the strip of skin just above the hem. Not much was left to the imagination, and she found herself staring as well.

Bit by bit, his gaze traveled from her face, across her chest and down her legs, before coming back up. He was quiet and took a couple steps closer, stopping in the middle of her room. Next to the bed with an unreadable expression. Lower lip caught by his teeth, his hands curled near his thighs, and Bucky’s eyes were molten silver when they met her own. She found herself getting short of breath. It was like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. With the way he was undressing her in that look.

Carding her fingers through her hair, Y/N tugged it out of her bun, attempting to tame it with her fingers alone. She felt her face start to burn and gave a nervous laugh, “What?” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to keep from fidgeting at his heavy stare.

The question jolted him back to the present and he shook his head, “Nothing you’re just… beautiful.” Somewhere in the middle of that sentence, he stumbled over what to say, and she wondered if beautiful had been the first thing to come to mind. His shy little smile made the fireflies under her skin start to dance.

It was her turn to roll her eyes and she gestured to her clothes with a wave of her hand, “You’ve drawn me in less.” Not much less. But only in a sports bra and shorts did count as less than this. Dismissively, she shook her head, looking away, and went to walk past him to the bathroom. At the last second, he swept up to her side in one fluid motion and caught her waist.

Everything stilled when Y/N peered up at him in surprise, and every point of contact made her blood sing, “That,” Bucky drawled, squeezing her hips and smirking, “Was before I could do this.” He stooped down and caught her lips in a soft kiss. He tasted like minty toothpaste and she barely managed to make the kiss last with the smile threatening to overtake her mouth.

The amount of want and giddiness this man made her feel was embarrassing. Her bare toes curled against the carpet as she forced herself to step away. Covering up the breathlessness in her tone, Y/N snorted an embarrassed laugh, “You’re such a dork.”

“You love it.” He retorted mischievously. With only one step back, he fell onto her bed, and propping up on his elbows. Stretched out like a cat along her comforter, he smirked at her. The expression on his face let her know that he saw some of that neediness building inside of her. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Even if he didn’t say anything. The smug smirk on his mouth said it all for him.

There was a breathless moment where she wondered how it would feel to tell him that she did love it. And more. It had crossed her mind a few times. Whether this was love or lust or something in between. But her heart skittered nervously in her chest and she felt too indecisive to even consider saying it.

And that was without wondering what his feelings on the matter were.

“Only sometimes. Like Tuesdays.” She snickered teasingly and he grinned back, attempting to look offended.

This… she adored this. And she hoped she got to keep it.

 

 

 

“Do you always sleep with a fan on?” His voice was soft in the dark. A low rumble near her ear, just loud enough over the hum of the fan across the room. The blankets whispered as she turned on her side to face him more closely. Her knees brushed against his bare shins and she blushed when he shifted even closer. Their legs tangled loosely together, his knee between her thighs and her ankle hooked over his. Nothing but boxers and a white tank top separated him from her.

Nose to nose, Y/N let her curious fingers brush down his bare arm. Every dip and curve spelled out strength and power just underneath his skin. Just as quiet, she replied, “Helps block out my neighbors. Plus, I like the noise.” She tilted her chin up just barely and brushed her lips against his. Just touching. Tasting and exploring. She didn’t even mean anything sexual by it. It just felt right. To show him affection whenever she could.

It crossed her mind how intimate this all was. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how far she wanted this to go. They were sharing a bed, and she wasn’t ignorant to the implications that came with that. But they hadn’t talked about it.

It was cool in her apartment, and the box fan she kept in the corner of her room only swirled the nippy air around them further. But his heat made her immune to the cold. When Bucky looked at her like that, she didn’t think she would ever be cold again. The constant hum masked the usual noises of the city and made it feel like they were the only people around.

“Is it ok?” She asked, even as her mind started drifting far away from the mundane topic of her sleeping choices. The side of his foot brushed along her calf as he leaned closer, bringing his hand up to brush a few stray strands off her neck.

“I can get used to it.” Bucky murmured, his eyes focusing on her mouth, “Used to always have a fan when me and Steve shared an apartment years ago. Didn’t have AC back then.” He kissed her again, even before he finished his sentence, and she forgot what she’d been about to say.

Gently, Bucky pressed closer to her and his hand stroked down her neck, shoulder, arm, and then his thumb brushed across her hipbone. Heat flushed through her skin when his palm ran up her side, beneath her arm and along her ribs. Hands against his chest, she felt up to his shoulders and wrapped one arm around his neck. His left arm supported him up over her, guiding her to lay back against the mattress.

One knee between her thighs, the other next to her hip, Bucky broke the kiss and traced a burning trail from her jaw to her ear with his mouth, “Tell me to stop.” He whispered, teeth grazing the edge of her ear. Just the sound of him had heat coiling in her belly and she bucked against the thigh between her legs.

“No.” She managed, trying to control the raging beat of her heart. Her fingers curled in the hair at the nap of his neck and the other bunched in the rough material of his tank top. Desire started to make a home in her core. Every kiss they shared, and every desperate touch built up a count of tallies inside of her. There were too many clothes between them.

Bucky groaned, kissing her neck and nipping lightly, “I don’t know how far—” He cut off when she caught the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. He helped her remove it and tossed it to the side, off the bed. Beneath her fingers, she could feel every breath he took and every imperfection that marked his body like a roadmap of the life he lived.

In the dim city light cutting through the blinds in amber strips, they stared at each other. The blankets pooled at his hips, leaving his upper body bare for her as he hovered over her. A vulnerable, nervous expression crossed Bucky’s features while he waited for her. If she didn’t know him so well, she might not have even noticed the nervousness.

Slowly, she felt his chest, down to the edge of his boxers and back up. Her fingertips ghosted over the twisted scar between the metal and his skin. He flinched at the touch but didn’t make her stop her exploration. He watched her trace over some of the panels at his shoulder, across the various lines and plates. When she reached where his elbow supported him up near her ribs, she let her hands come back to rest on his shoulders.

After a moment of just taking him in, she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and managed, “Just… touch me.” Y/N licked her lips and met his eyes. Internally, she warred with herself for a moment, before finally deciding, “I’m not ready for all of it. But maybe just… a little?” Embarrassment made her cheeks burn, but Bucky listened with no judgment or annoyance in his features.

Then he nodded and seemed to relax just a bit, “Ok.” He kissed her and the part of her that was worried about ruining the mood evaporated at the feel of his teeth grazing her bottom lip.

Smoothly, he pushed up her shirt and he pulled away to forge a trail to her collarbone. Goosebumps followed his fingers from the curve of her side to her chest, hitching her shirt up to her chin. The calluses of his hand lightly scraped across the slope of her breast before he palmed it fully. A surprised gasp caught in her throat and slipped into a groan when he flicked his tongue against her opposite, untouched nipple. Giving attention to both.

It crossed her mind that he was still not touching her with his metal hand, but her very ability to think shattered when his mouth enclosed her nipple. Bucky’s teeth grazed the rosy bud gently before his tongue swirled deliciously and made her see stars. His breath was cool against the sensitive skin when he whispered, “I love these.” He squeezed her other breast for emphasis, “No idea how much I love these.”

It was like she went taunt and pliant under his touch all at once. Her legs fell apart wider and her knee brushed against him, hard as granite over her thigh. Bucky stilled, a soft wicked hiss escaped him, and she pushed her leg up against him again. The answering moan made electricity shoot up her spine.

“Stop that.” He snarled, nipping the sensitive skin of her chest under his mouth, “You’ll ruin my fun.” Every word sent a cool gust of air against her heated skin and made her shiver.

The demand had her shaking her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. No, she wouldn’t. The heat building up in her had her aching to touch him. She needed to feel him. Twisting underneath him, she ran a hand down his chest, towards the waist band of his boxers. But then he released his hand on her breast and caught her wrist, pushing it back against the mattress above her head.

Bucky rose up just far enough to meet her eyes, “I want to touch you first,” He confessed, voice so rough and low that she barely recognized it, “Just— let me touch you.” He squeezed her wrist lightly and his hair tickled her cheeks when he leaned down and let his lips touch her own just once. There was such a broken plea in his words that she fell still and nodded just once in understanding.

While his mouth worked along the valley of her breasts, he ran his free hand back down her side and across her bare thigh. The blankets fell off them, down to his feet and left her feeling very naked underneath him. Only his body covered her now. Shorts twisted up so high on her that they might as well have been a second set of underwear. When Y/N rolled her hips against his thigh, still wedged between her legs, he groaned and released her from his mouth.

“You’re gorgeous like this.” Bucky whispered, and she could feel the heat of his gaze like a caress when his eyes took her in beneath him. Shirt hitched up under her chin, chest fluttering with every quick breath, and legs parted to make room for him between them.

But he was a sight to behold too. Dark hair falling around his face, lips tilted into a wicked smirk, and all the toned expanse of his chest and stomach naturally guided her focus down to where she could just make out the outline of him in his boxers. The room wasn’t quite bright enough for her to see him perfectly, and the shadows obscured most below their hips, but she could see just enough. Propped up above her, still close enough that she could feel the rise and fall of his breath, he was a fever dream come to life.

Teasingly slow, Bucky’s fingers glided across the top of her thigh before slipping inward. He kissed her lightly, and traced circles across the skin, closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. Then he skipped where she wanted him to go, so he could feel just below her belly button. Swirled around it once, and along the band of her shorts. Like a cat playing with its dinner.

Again.  
Again.  
Every near touch had her tensing and filling with more and more want. Unable to take much more teasing, she breathed, “Please.”

“Please what?” Y/N could smell the mint on his breath when he painted those words on the corner of her mouth. Catching him in another kiss, she shivered when his long fingers grazed just beneath her shorts. Closer to where she really wanted his hand to be. But then he bypassed again and caressed from her hip to her knee.

“James…” Y/N whined, attempting to sound stern but falling short. His deep chuckle reverberated through her ribs and into her heart. It was one of the very few times that she called him by his first name. She tried to make it more of a command than plea, but it didn’t play out that way. Not with how wrecked she sounded.

“Yes?” He asked lightly. When Y/N tried to kiss him again, he dodged her, raising an eyebrow mischievously, “Tell me what you want.” He nuzzled his nose against her jaw, the words hot against her neck, scattering love bites along her throat. Frustrated, she tangled her fingers in his dark hair and tugged hard enough that he hissed. But it turned into a groan at the end that had her toes curling in the sheets.

At this point, she was squirming, and thought she might fall apart from desire alone. Reluctantly, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, “Touch me.” His lips stilled on her throat, and she shivered, “Please.” That single word made him shudder over her and he groaned again.

The hand on her knee found its way underneath the hem of her pants. The first brush of him against her dragged a groan from deep inside her chest. It sounded like it might have started out as his name but turned into something unrecognizable. He hummed in satisfaction at the wetness he found waiting for him and his thumb circled that spot at the apex of her thighs. Teasing, and brushing against it but never quite enough.

Bucky’s lips finally found her own again, and she keened at the taste of him. The feel of his mouth, and the want that he showed every time they parted and came together again. He kissed her wantonly. Like he would never get enough. His tongue flicked against her own the same moment his thumb pushed down exactly where she wanted it. Y/N bucked her hips and trembled too hard to keep the kiss going, gasping out a cry. Panting as his thumb coiled her higher and higher.

“Like that?” He laughed, low and soft. His eyes sparked wickedly as he watched her fall apart. Bit by bit beneath his hands. Cool metals fingers brushed against her cheek where he kept his weight propped near her shoulder. The heat of his body blanketed her, and his bare chest touched her own with every uneven breath.

A moan was her only reply. Desperate, Y/N’s squeezed his shoulders, nails scrapping against his back. More and more. She wanted—No needed more.

His fingers slid down, slow and brazen, straight through the core of her. Every point in her body, mind, soul, narrowed to the feeling of his fingers touching her. Then they stilled, poised there like he had all the time in the world.

“Please,” Y/N begged again, and ground her thigh up against him through his boxers again for emphasis. It took all her self-control to not touch him any further than with her thigh. She wanted to feel him in her palm, but he wanted to touch her first.

Bucky hissed at the contact and slid a finger inside of her. He swore and breathed her name against her mouth like a prayer. Y/N started to move on him, and he swore again in a long exhale. His lips pressed to her own in barely any semblance of a kiss. She let out a moan loud enough for the entire city to hear as he slid in a second finger, filling her up so much that she couldn’t think around it. Couldn’t even breathe.

“That’s it babydoll.” He murmured, his lips tracing her ear. Then he kissed her again and his tongue swept in. Every stroke inside her mouth painted a story of exactly what he’d do if he got between her legs. His fingers plunged in and out, slow and hard. Her very existence narrowed to the feel of them. To the tightness in her ratcheting up with every deep stroke, and every echoing thrust of his tongue in her mouth.

When he sat back their gazes locked. Unable to control herself, Y/N started chanting his name under her breath. Like a mantra and arms wrapped around his neck as she held on to keep herself grounded. His eyes trailed down, to where his hand disappeared beneath her shorts, and he bit his lower lip to stifle a moan at the sight.

“You have no idea how much I—” He cut off, groaning her name instead when she shuddered around him.

The whisper of her name on his lips was her undoing. Release barreled down her spine, and she cried out, only to have his mouth cover her own. Bucky kissed her as if he could devour the sound. His tongue flicked the roof of her mouth while she trembled around him, clenching tight. He swore again, breathing hard, fingers stroking her through the last throes of it. Until Y/N was limp and shivering in his arms.

In a blissful high, she couldn’t breathe hard enough, or fast enough. Carefully, Bucky withdrew his fingers. Then he sat up and she let her hands fall onto the pillows above her head, stretching out as he watched her. Voice still wrecked, he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about doing that for a very, very long time.” He smirked deviously, “But mostly, I’ve wanted to do this.” His baby blues held hers as he brought up those fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

On the taste of her.

If he kept doing this too her, Y/N was going to eat him alive. Instantly heated up again, she slid a hand up his chest, ready to flip him over. Before she could, though, he dropped to his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. Without a word, he pulled her back flush against his front, spooning her from behind. Confused, she took his hand against her belly, trying to turn, “Bucky?”

In answer, he kissed the back of her neck and whispered, “It’s getting really, really late.”

“Don’t you want…?” The words caught in her throat, and she wasn’t even sure how she’d finish the sentence, but she managed, “I’d like to touch you too.”

“Later,” He replied simply, nuzzling against her hair and letting out a content sigh. Carefully, he slid his arm around her and adjusted the blankets back over them. Then tucked her tight against his bare chest. Close enough she could both feel and hear his explanation, “We’ve got all the time in the world.” Bucky squeezed her hand, “I have no intention of doing it all in one night.”

Still in the haze of her climax, Y/N shuddered, and he remained long and hard against her. Untouched and tempting. Truthfully, she wanted to feel him and get that considerable length inside of her. Every inch of his bare skin against her own called to that heat still licking in her core, and she asked, “Don’t you want me too?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She couldn’t see his expression, but she could hear the smile, “But we really do need to sleep, and I’ve got no plans of going anywhere anytime soon. Do you?”

“No.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. His legs tangled with her own again as he settled in behind her. Getting comfortable.

“Then sleep.” Bucky whispered. He might as well have commanded her to breathe among the stars in space. But he began stroking her body again. Not to arouse, but to soothe. Long, luxurious strokes down her stomach and sides. His metal arm up under the pillow beneath her head. Every touch made her relax further against him and into the mattress until she was nothing but melted honey and starlight.

And she drifted off into a dreamless sleep sooner than she thought possible.   
With his name being the last thought in her head and the sound of his breath the last thing she could hear.


	18. Mountains and Cold Fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the impromptu hiatus! Works been hectic and I haven't had much inspiration as of late.  
> But thank you to everyone for your comments and I still plan to keep going! I love this story even when words don't want to come easily.  
> If you enjoy it let me know! There's some drama brewing on the horizon. This story is far from over <3

**Saturday December 29 th **

The plane tremored slightly as it started to descend. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s vice grip on her hand, she’d have barely even noticed. Her eyes were trained on the landscape outside. Snow glittered through the clouds passing by her window. It was edging towards 3 in the afternoon, and excitement thrummed through her like a drum. Glancing over at him, she tried not to smile at the deathly pale pallor of his skin. He’d looked about ready to vomit when they’d taken off and didn’t look much better now. 

It was kind of cute. Turning her palm over, she let him lace their fingers together. He met her eyes with a watery, but grateful smile. Y/N shook her head, “Out of everything to be afraid of.” She teased, and he scowled, wincing when the plane shook again.

“Ever been in a plane when it’s being shot down?” Bucky groused, eyes screwed shut and a death grip on the armrest of his seat. The plastic creaked dangerously underneath his gloved hand. Across the aisle, Steve let his elbows rest on his knees, and silently raised an eyebrow at her in question. His focused flicked from her to where her boyfriend was nearly tearing the end of the armrest off. She gave a half shrug, and he chuckled.

Intrigued, she asked incredulously, “You have?” Bucky nodded and only relaxed when the plane’s wheels hit the asphalt. Letting out a slow breath, he opened his eyes and met her curious gaze, “Luckily we had parachutes.”

Steve leaned further across the aisle at Bucky’s left so he could give her a secretive smile, “It wasn’t that bad. We had plenty of time to get out. Buck’s exaggerating.” He finished with a dismissive wave of his hand, making the brunet bristle.

Their seats were well spread out and plush. Like fluffy leather recliners with plenty of leg room and space to move in. Y/N had taken the window seat, Bucky to her left, and Steve across the aisle in his own seat. A divider between him and his other neighbor.

“The engine caught fire.” Bucky hissed, unbuckling his seatbelt the moment the speakers dinged and the go-ahead light came on. Obviously, he was wasting no time to vacate the flying deathtrap.

Amused, Y/N shook her head and drank the last of her champagne. Then stood up, stretching her arms above her head. The boys got their overhead bags, Bucky shouldering hers along with his. Tony had thought it would be nice to fly them first class. Honestly, that man was either entirely too generous, or just had no concept of money.

“So? It’s not like we were in it when it went down.” Steve rolled his eyes, waiting for an elderly couple to go by before he stepped back into the aisle, heading towards the front of the plane. Even with all the space offered to the first-class section of the plane, him and Bucky could touch the roof without even stretching. They tried to make themselves smaller to compensate, drawing in on themselves to keep from knocking into anything.

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Bucky grumbled, “I’m not saying I’m afraid of flying, because I’m not, but there’s nothing wrong with having a hearty respect for how risky being that high in the air can be.” When he heard her giggle behind him, he shot her an unamused pout, “What? It’s true! If humans were meant to fly, we’d be born with wings.”

Steve snickered, “Maybe you should take the train next time.” That comment had Bucky focusing back on his best friend with an extra burst of spite.

Honestly, Y/N hadn’t realized how much she missed Steve’s company until they met up with him, and he made her smile with every other sentence. Steve teased Bucky relentlessly, but the brunet was able to take it and dish it back with equal mirth. Playful banter just seemed to be in every facet of their conversations. It was like a prerequisite if you wanted to be their friend.

“If you want to take a train back, you can take it by yourself.” Y/N popped in helpfully. She followed them out of the plane with Steve in the lead. It was a relief to take a breath of fresh air, even if it smelled like too much cleaner and fried food.

They were supposed to meet Natasha in the parking lot, she was giving them a lift to Tony’s private cabin. About an hour away.

When the hallway grew wider, Bucky fell back beside her and poked his fingers against her ribs, tickling her, “Traitor!” He accused, and she squeaked, squirming away from him.

“Am not! A 7-hour flight is long enough. Can’t imagine how long it would take on a train.” She covered her mouth to muffle the laughter bubbling up inside her. Bucky looked like the definition of scandalized.

Easing into step beside him, she looped her arm through his and tugged him forward into a quicker pace. Steve had already stopped just at the mouth of the hall. He leaned against the corner, out of the way of the other passengers. The crowd flowed out of the gate and into the main area of the terminal.

It was amazing how quickly a long flight could go if you were in luxury seats. They’d gotten a meal, plenty of snacks, and free alcohol. Her and Bucky spent most of the time watching a movie and shared her headphones to listen to some music while they took a much-needed nap.

For most of the night, she’d slept like a baby, but there was one point where the sandman had been chased far, far away.

 

 

> **Sometime Last Night**
> 
> At first, Y/N didn’t notice. Awareness seeped into her bones and made her tense. Thoughts trickled in like the dripping of a faucet. Soft sheets against her skin. A pleasant, telling ache between her thighs. The hum of the fan, and the smell of cologne.
> 
> And a deep, familiar whimper.
> 
> Opening her eyes, she groaned and rubbed at them blearily. It took her a second to adjust to the dark and she felt Bucky tug at the blankets, breathing unevenly from across the bed. At some point during the night, they’d drifted apart a bit. There was only so long two people could lay in the same position before body parts started losing circulation.
> 
> Concerned, she turned over and peered at him through the dark. He was on his back, fists clenched in the blankets at his sides, and his chest heaved painfully quick. Raising up, Y/N scooted closer and gently let her hand rest on his bare chest.
> 
> “Bucky…” She called, trying to find the balance between being loud enough to wake him up, but not startle him. Hand on his chest, she hovered over him and cupped his cheek in her other palm. His skin was cool and clammy, jaw tight. Softly, she brushed his hair back off his sweaty forehead and winced when he gave a pained groan.
> 
> “Sweetheart, you’re having a nightmare.” Y/N tried again, reaching over him to take his right fist with her own. Carefully, she untangled his fingers from the blankets, “Wake up.” She urged, and went rigid when he took in a sharp, startled gasp.
> 
> Blue eyes snapped open and he took in great, gulping breaths. Now that he was awake, his taut body dissolved into tremors. Panicked, Bucky’s frantic eyes searched the entire room, and he shot upright, blankets pooling in his lap. After a long moment, his wild gaze finally fell on her. He scanned over her from head to toe, watching as she sat up beside him.
> 
> “You’re ok.” She soothed, once she had his attention. Squeezing his hand, she let go and stroked his cheek instead. Bucky’s expression crumpled and he grimaced, nuzzling into her touch. Slowly, she shifted closer and ran her other hand through his hair and down his neck. Then again, and again.
> 
> With each stroke of her fingers through his hair, Bucky curled forward, slowly guided down. Until his forehead pressed to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. His hands came up and clenched the material of her shirt at her sides. Tight enough that she wondered if he thought she might be about to disappear.
> 
> “Want to talk about it?” Y/N asked, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. Fingers in his hair, she continued stroking soothingly. The other arm she used to hug him to her.
> 
> Without a word, Bucky gently pushed her back until she was laying down. Then he let his head rest on her chest, arm hugging her waist. There wasn’t anything heated about it, even as he nuzzled against her breasts and slipped his hand beneath her shirt so he could stroke her skin.
> 
> “No.” He murmured, voice cracking, “Just… stay.” Bucky let out a long breath and she squeezed his shoulder.
> 
> Kissing the crown of his head, she relaxed back into the pillows and promised, “Always.”
> 
> In return, Bucky peppered soft kisses to the bare skin along the collar of her shirt and didn’t relax his hold on her for a long, long time.
> 
> Y/N wasn’t sure when she fell asleep again. But she woke up too soon to the ringing of his phone’s alarm. Much to her surprise, Bucky woke up with her. He hadn’t left the bed like she’d thought he might, and he was still wrapped around her. Even hours later.

 

**December 29 th **

The car purred underneath her like a large content kitten. Sleek black seats, a leather interior, and the radio filled the quiet with a random playlist off Natasha’s phone. Y/N was gifted the front seat next to the intimidating redhead. While the boys generously offered to cram themselves in the back. She’d have really preferred to sit in the back with Bucky, and give Steve the front, but she’d been out voted.

As of now, Steve and Nat were carrying most of the conversation. Bucky chimed in here and there, catching up on the latest events in their lives. Nat had gone to high school with Steve and Bucky and hopped around in careers for a while after graduation. Currently, she had successful career as a private investigator, which was where Clint had come in. They met at work, and she’d introduced him to the friend group not too long after. Now they were all inseparable.

“So, what do you do? James said you were still in college?” Nat’s attention felt like an arrow piercing into her skin. Y/N’s spine straightened, and she glanced over, trying to give a smile to cover her sudden unease.

Necklace in hand, she fidgeted with the hourglass pendant, “I’m going to be an Art and English teacher. Next semester’s my last. Then I’ll hopefully get a job at Aaron Elementary.” She explained, crossing one leg over the other, careful to not get any mud on the pristine black dash. For Steve and Bucky to have enough leg room, she’d moved her seat up as far as she could.

One hand on the wheel, Nat relaxed back into her seat and nodded, “You like kids?” Sunlight caught gold in her short scarlet strands and highlighted her matching ruby lipstick.

“Mostly just love art.” She shrugged, “But ya, kids are cute. When they’re not being bratty.” Steve snorted behind her, and she glimpsed back, meeting his smile with her own. Heat from the vents caressed her skin and warmed her enough that she unzipped her jacket. Then shouldered out of it, balling it up in her lap.

“Nothing like having kids of your own.” Natasha agreed, propping her elbow on the door, “I’ve always heard parents have a better tolerance when the children are their own. As a teacher, you can just get most of the good without having to worry about the responsibilities.”

This wasn’t the kind of conversation she’d thought she would be having, but she tried to roll with it. Attention drifting to the passing scenery outside, Y/N straightened out her blouse, “Mn, ya it’s not really the same. I’ll want kids eventually. At least one or two.” Her focus returned to Nat when she noticed the other woman glance up at the review mirror with a perfectly concerned, inquisitive expression.

Concentration mostly on the road, she pushed her sunglasses up into her silky scarlet waves, and asked, “Oh well, I thought you didn’t want kids? Finally change your mind?” The question wasn’t directed towards her, and she tried to breathe evenly around the sudden unease curling up inside of her.

A pit opened in her stomach, and Y/N turned in her seat just far enough to peer back at Bucky. He scowled at Nat through the mirror, and shook his head, “No. Still don’t.” His words were clipped at the ends, and when he his eyes landed on her, he softened, but didn’t elaborate. Just crossed his arms and pursed his lips. An apology rose up in his expression, but he didn’t offer it up.

There was just a quick burst of disappointment in her heart before she forced herself to let it go for now. They’d never really talked about children. Their relationship was so new that it never came up. And it didn’t matter yet. A lot could change over the course of a year or two.

Despite how casually, and seamlessly the conversation had flowed in this direction… It felt like Natasha had walked her straight into a trap of awkward.

Swallowing down the nerves in her throat, she gave a dismissive wave, “Not like we’ve got to worry about that for a while. There’s a lot I want to do before I’ll even consider starting a family.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded in silent agreement.

Then Steve, bless him, changed the subject to something less tense. About Nat’s job and some of the different cases he’d been working on lately.

If this was the prodding Y/N had to look forward it, it was going to be a difficult trip.

 

 

 

To say the cabin was luxurious would be an understatement. It was huge. So plush, and modern that Y/N thought it might be more like a mansion with a bare-minimum rustic touch. An entire forest must have gone into the creation of this vacation spot. A long private drive led up through a well-kept front yard and to a multi-car garage. Which was attached to a cabin with 3 floors and more windows than walls. At first glance, she noticed several patios and connecting balconies on the upper floors.

In awe, Y/N silently followed the group from the garage. The garage connected to what appeared to be a high-tech workshop, and past a row of sleek, pristine cars that didn’t seem to be the kind a person drove. Rather, people admired them from afar and sat in them if they were lucky enough to be given permission.

Subtly, Bucky dropped back beside her as they continued. Steve was engaging Nat in some conversation about something she’d lost track of. An arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she felt her boyfriend press a kiss to her temple. The scent of leather and aftershave washed over her, and she tucked her arm around his waist, beneath his black jacket.

“You ok?” He asked against her cheek. The rumbling of her suitcase rolling behind her masked his question. She adjusted her other bag against her hip, pulling at the strap across her chest.

Peaking up at him, she nodded, “Ya, why?” And she wasn’t lying. Nat’s question about kids had thrown her off, but it didn’t really bother her. What did bother her, was the fact that the other woman didn’t seem to like her. There wasn’t any outright hostility, but she just had an inkling feeling. Like icy water slowly dripping from the crown of her head to her spine.

“Just seem quiet is all.” He shrugged, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. They slowed in their walking, a wide, spiraling staircase up ahead of them.

Warmth spread through her heart at the concern in his baby blues, and she gave a wry grin, “You do realize I’m technically an introvert, right?” She made sure to inject as much sarcasm into the statement as she could, “Just cause I act all happy-go-lucky-confident doesn’t mean I am.”

Rolling his eyes, he pinched her shoulder, “Oh don’t I know it.” He relaxed at her answering giggle, and gave her a playful shake, making her stumble, “Don’t let Nat get to you. She means well. Just takes a little warming up to.”

“Noted.” Y/N gave him one last side-hug before releasing him and starting up the stairs.

“Coming?” Natasha called from the top of the staircase, in an open doorway. Steve was already out of sight, and Y/N picked up her pace.

The door from the garage led to expertly equipped kitchen. It was elevated a step up from the rest of the room, with a long dining room table a few paces away. All granite counters and tiled floors. It faced a beautiful living room. Fireplace, stone faced chimney, wood floors, and floor to ceiling windows.

Honestly, Y/N didn’t want to touch anything. It was like she’d been swept to an entirely different world. Different universe even. Plush, sectional black couches and matching recliners took up some of the living room, surrounding the crackling fireplace. There was a pristine bar taking up the rest of the wall next to the fireplace, and a sliding glass door that stepped out onto a patio with a view of the mountains.

“Welcome!” A deep, chipper voice called from the direction of the bar. Behind the onyx counter, stood a man with three glasses filled with an amber liquid from an expensive looking decanter of scotch. He had messy brown hair, a perfectly tamed goatee, and a teasing smirk that made the devious one Bucky often gave her look angelic. The Tony Stark. Billionaire genius.

And the reason Bucky was able to hold her with both arms instead of just one.  
It might have been childish, but part of her wanted to personally thank him for that.

Ahead of her, Steve shrugged out of his coat and draped it on the back of one of the stools next to the kitchen island. He left his bags out of the way against the island and stepped down into the living room area.

Two other men stood from the couch. One had dark brown hair and a hesitant little grin as his brown eyes flickered between the three of them. He met Steve with a quick hug. The other was a sandy blonde with sharp blues that made her feel pierced to the core when he peered at her over Steve’s shoulder, clapping his hand once on her friend’s back before stepping back.

Immediately, Nat crossed the room to the bar and picked up one of the premade drinks, leaning against it as she watched everything unfold. She had a coy smile, hidden away behind the lip of her glass when she took a drink.

Nervous, Y/N took off her coat and laid it on another chair at the counter. Bucky followed suit, and they sat their bags next to Steve’s. Instantly, Bucky left her side and went to greet his friends. He hugged the blonde and then the brunet in a button up violet shirt. Tony glided out from behind the bar and came over, holding one of the glasses.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your lady friend?” He asked and winked at her when she looked up at him. Then he gave Bucky a disapproving look, clucking his tongue, “You really have no sense of decorum do you Barnes?”

Bucky stepped back, glancing over his shoulder and only then seemed to realize that she was still standing next to their stuff in the kitchen. With a few quick steps, he was by her side again and took her hand. He gave her a small, apologetic smile, and then addressed the three men, “This is Y/N. Y/N, Tony, Clint, and Bruce.” He pointed to each in turn, and she gave a little wave.

“Nice to meet you.” She managed, and then focused in on Tony, “Thank you for letting me tag along. This place is,” She waved a hand in the air and blew out a sharp breath as she tried to find the right words, “Beautiful.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Tony stepped forward and took her hand. His palms were surprisingly rough with calluses and she noticed a bit of oil stained under his nails when he gave her a firm handshake, then lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles, “Why thank you.” He smirked, releasing her and peering over at Bucky, who merely rolled his eyes in answer.

Gesturing around them, Tony stooped down at the coffee table and picked his drink back up, “Designed everything myself. Did you like the first floor? Not as good as my lab in Manhattan, but it’s got all the basics.”

“Didn’t really understand what any of that stuff was, but I’d love a tour sometime.” Y/N offered, giving a sheepish shrug.

“God don’t encourage him.” Bruce chuckled quietly, crossing his arms and he flashed her a sweet smile, “He’ll never shut up if you keep doing that.”

Tony pressed a hand to his chest, as if he’d just been physically struck. Then he jabbed a finger at Bruce accusingly, “Like you’ve got room to talk. Pot,” He then pointed at himself, “Meet Kettle.”

With a shake of his head, Clint sighed, and noticed her intrigued, and a bit intimidated expression, “Yes, they’re always like this. No, you’ll never quite get used to it.”

If Y/N hadn’t been facing in her direction, she wouldn’t have even noticed Nat coming over. She moved just as quietly as Bucky. Silently, the redhead wrapped her arms around Clint’s waist, her heels making her just tall enough to do so. She let her chin rest on his shoulder and gave him a softer version of one of her smirks, “Stop pretending like you’re not just as bad.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” Clint chuckled, taking her half-finished glass from her hand and stealing a drink from it.

Bucky’s thumb stroked across the back of her hand, and Y/N looked up at him. He tilted his head, nodding towards another wide staircase that lead up to the top floor. Then he addressed the group, “We’re gonna go get settled in.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Me too.” Then he turned, heading back towards his bags.

“We’re having dinner in an hour.” Tony stated, flopping down on one of the recliners.

“I’m making tacos!” Clint added, sitting beside Nat on the couch, “Gonna have all the fixings, and Bruce’s taking care of the dip.”

Bruce headed over to the bar and picked up the forgotten glass of scotch that Tony had left, “Can’t trust you to do it. You nearly burned everyone’s tongue off last time.” He drawled dryly, and Y/N laughed softly, picking up her bags off the floor. She draped her coat over her arm, carrying it with her.

“It was not that spicy!” Clint cried indignantly, “You’re all just babies!” He kicked his socked feet up on the coffee table, slumping into the couch. Tony gave him a sharp look, but he didn’t remove his offended feet.

As they continued to argue back and forth, Y/N followed Bucky to the stairs. It was a short walk up to the next floor landing, where she could see most of the living room just over the rail. Straight ahead there were a hallway, and Steve flipped on a light at the mouth of the hall.

Steve stopped at the first door on the left, and pointed further down the hall, “You’re down there, last door on the right.” She nodded gratefully and counted the doors as she went. There were 6 altogether. Bucky hung behind, leaning against Steve’s doorway and started talking to him about something she didn’t catch.

The hall was well lit, and pictures hung along it. Just a few, but she recognized everyone in them. It seemed like they took at least one picture of the group every year. When she reached her room, she took a deep breath and pushed it open.

Golden sunlight filled the room from the sliding glass doors straight ahead of her. The room was huge. With plush cream rugs over the polished wooden floor, eggshell blue walls, and sheer midnight cobalt curtains. Everything was accented in shades of blue and neutral earth tones. Even the bed had a deep, dark oak bedframe and comforters in various shades of mocha.

She let her suitcase down next to the dresser that matched the bedframe. Then took off her boots, heading for the bathroom, shower bag in hand. It was… too much. All porcelain counters, a deep bathtub that could easily fit three grown men, and a matching stand-alone shower that could fit the same. And the color scheme mirrored the bedroom.

After relieving herself, Y/N washed her hands and peered into the mirror. Unpacking some of her bathroom products, she touched up her makeup and hair. It felt good to have a quiet moment to herself. Her energy reserves were starting to dip low after being up and doing things since an ungodly hour of the morning.

Makeup readjusted, she straightened out her blouse that she felt hugged her curves well, and the belt on her black jeans. Satisfied, she headed out of the bathroom and noticed Bucky’s bags next to her own. She hadn’t heard him come in. Not finding him in the bedroom, she glanced over to the balcony, and found him propped against the wooden rail.

It was brisk outside, but she hadn’t bothered to put her jacket back on. Wind bit at her socked toes, and she hissed at the breeze. Eyebrows quirked, Bucky spotted her and snorted, opening his arms for her, “It’s pretty isn’t it?” He asked after she hastily ducked into his embrace. His leather jacket wrapped around her along with his arms, and she soaked in his body heat gratefully.

Shivering, Y/N clasped his jacket closed with her fingers and leaned back against him. The balcony overlooked the backyard and forest beyond that. The cabin was up on a hill, giving them a decent view of the rolling, snow covered valley, and then the mountains beyond that. She wasn’t sure which direction Squaw Valley Resort was in, but they were near a pretty vast mountain range, and Lake Tahoe. A drawing lit up her mind while she took in the light and shadows and colors.

“Beautiful.” She agreed, just barely managing to keep a tremor out of her voice. Her teeth might start chattering if they stayed out there long enough, "Think we'll have time to paint it while we're here?"

Bucky hugged her tighter and placed a chilly kiss on her cheek, "We should." 

They were quiet for a while. Just taking in the view. After a moment, she sighed, breath forming a while cloud from her lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere this nice.” Not to mention she’d never be able to pay for something like this on her own, “Tony’s way too generous.”

Bucky snorted, breath warm from where he had let his chin rest on her shoulder, “It took me a while to get used to it too.” The cold fingers from his right hand slipped underneath the cover of his jacket, and she flinched when he pressed them to her side, just under her arm. Stealing her warm from her skin.

Eyebrows furrowed, she adjusted the hold of his jacket to one hand and cupped his chilly hand under hers, “I feel a little guilty. Ya know?” She interlaced their fingers, “I can’t offer anything to pay him back, and I don’t want anyone to think I’m just here for the stuff.”

“No one will.” He shook his head, thumb brushing over her own, “And he’d never let you pay him back even if you tried.” Bucky sighed, “Tony likes giving things. I think he’s happiest when his friends are happy.”

“Guess I can understand that.” Y/N replied thoughtfully. She tilted her head back, chin up and smiled when she felt Bucky stoop down to meet her. His lips were cold against her own, but they warmed her all the way down to her toes anyway.

A door slid open to their left and Bucky broke the kiss, arms tightening just a bit around her. Y/N glanced over to find Steve poking his head out, “Tony’s threatening to send Nat up after you.” He grimaced, showing just how bad that would be, “I’d get down there before he follows through with it.” Apparently, they shared a balcony with the other rooms on that side of the house.

Bucky groaned, irritation filling the entire gesture, “We’re coming!”

 

 

The simmering heat from the fire made her cozy and sleepy. Between that and Bucky’s arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side, Y/N thought she might drift off any minute. Currently, the only thing keeping her conscious was her unwavering interest in everything going on around her. Bucky’s friends were wickedly hilarious, and surprisingly kind.

Being among them, she understood why he considered them his family, and any place with them was a home.

“Head over heels! I swear!” Y/N cackled, enjoying the faint blush across the bridge of Steve’s nose.

Clint practically howled with laughter, head thrown back against the couch and chest heaving. Hand over his mouth, Tony chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Steve. Even Bruce was attempting to hide a laugh behind the lip of his beer bottle.

Indignant, Steve rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and grumbled, “It wasn’t that bad! And by the end of it I was skating fine!” He glared at Y/N, as if she’d deeply betrayed him. But the moment she innocently grinned back, the scowl softened.

Bucky’s thumb brushed circles along her shoulder and she felt his chuckle against her entire side, “Only took you the entire time.” He teased, “Guy’s should’ve seen this big oaf clinging to the wall. Had to practically bend in half to keep hold of it.”

The image brought out another round of laughter, and Nat toasted her glass of wine in the air, tilting it towards Steve, “Here’s to trying! Good thing you’re solid on a snowboard.”

“Took two years and a few broken bits but hey! Progress is bliss.” Tony snarked, clinking his whiskey glass with Natasha’s. The sound of crystal ringing sang overtop the renewed bought of laughter.

“If I had better teachers, maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long.” Steve retorted, sinking down further in his seat. That comment got quite a few cries of protest from the entire room.

They were all sprawled in the living room. Dishes piled up in the kitchen to be dealt with later. Various drinks passed around and the fire stoked up to fight off the chilly night pressing in through the windows. Nat and Clint were curled up together on one end of the L shaped couch, Tony in a recliner adjacent to them, with Bruce and Steve in the middle of the couch. Y/N and Bucky capped off the opposite end of the couch, across from Tony and closest to the fireplace.

Pity took up inside of Y/N’s heart and at all the abuse she’d subjected Steve to, so she took another sip of her wine and leaned forward to sit the glass back onto the long coffee table. As she settled back against Bucky, she smiled, “Gotta be honest, Bucky was no better.”

Everyone focused in on her, quieting down, and Bucky side eyed her suspiciously. Unperturbed, she continued, pulling her hair off the back of her neck and over her shoulder, “We didn’t even make it very far before he not only fell but took me down with his clumsy ass.” Steve was grinning from ear to ear and she shared a smile with him.

“Grace like a drunk peacock.” Tony drawled, smirking at Bucky who scoffed.

“Look who’s talking.” He shot back, “I can remember several times you’ve eaten your share of snow.” Tony gave a small shrug, acquiescing, and Bucky clicked his tongue, “Sides, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I couldn’t even breathe!” Y/N protested, “I didn’t even have a chance to catch myself thanks to you!” She jabbed a finger against his stomach and rolled her eyes when he just laughed at her.

“Poor fragile princess.” He teased.

“Speaking of fragile.” Tony cut in, sitting his empty glass down. His expression was more serious than she’d seen yet, “It’s been a while since your last check up.” She could practically feel Bucky bristle beside her.

“So?” Bucky’s voice was lighter than she had an inkling he felt inside, “There hasn’t been anything wrong.” He gave a half shrug.

Despite the protests, Tony stood and tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen, “C’mon, I can kill two birds with one stone. Your girl wants a tour of the lab anyway.” His eyes fell on her, a suggestive smirk made his mouth quirk.

Y/N studied Bucky’s profile, concerned when he didn’t look at her. His jaw was tight, eyebrows pinched. The room had fallen uncomfortably quiet. Everyone else carried on a casual conversation, pretending to not be eavesdropping. It took her just a minute to figure out what Tony was getting at, and she almost slapped herself in the forehead for not having thought about it before.

Of course, his metal arm would need maintenance. She hadn’t ever really thought about it, though. Naively, she had assumed he took care of it by himself. The real question here, though, was whether he felt comfortable with her being there for it or not.

“I can stay here.” Y/N offered, “There’s plenty of time for a tour later.” She shrugged, sitting up straighter and he removed his arm from her shoulder as he stood up.

Bucky shifted his weight from foot to foot, scratching the back of his head, “Mn, no, better let him give you the tour while he’s offering. Knowing your luck, you’ll never get the opportunity again. He’s fickle like that.”

“If you’re sure.” She replied hesitantly and let out a small breath when he nodded.

 

 

Tony’s lab only grew more complex and intriguing the closer she looked. He prattled on about different technological advances he’d done to customize it, and the various machines and tools that littered the metallic table tops and along the cement walls. Just like when Peter started to geek out on her, she only heard enough to follow the conversation, but she didn’t retain much of what she didn’t understand.

Perched on top of a stool, she let her chin rest on her hand, and hummed at the right times as scientist spoke. Bucky sat stiffly to her left with his metal arm relaxed, palm down on the tabletop. Unable to look away, Y/N watched Tony open a panel at Bucky’s shoulder. She couldn’t see the wires inside, but she could hear the click as he attached a cord, connecting the arm to a laptop he had in front of him.

“Any shoulder pains? Chafing?” He asked, attention falling onto Bucky, who shook his head, “And the phantom pains?”

“Bearable.” Bucky muttered, growing tenser when Tony opened a few more panels and took something like a modified screwdriver and started poking around. Y/N let her free hand slip beneath the table, and she scooted forward to the edge of her stool, in order to reach his knee. She squeezed softly, the fabric of his jeans rough under fingers.

Barely, almost imperceptibly, he relaxed. Tony’s dark eyes flickered from Bucky to her, and his lip quirked up, then he continued, “You’ve got some loose wires in here, but that’s nothing considering you’re 6 months overdue.” He gave a chiding glare, “How’s the pressure sensors treating you?”

A warm hand covered her own, fingers stroking across her knuckles and down to her fingertips. But Bucky’s attention didn’t drift from his friend as he replied, “Helps with the pain, but I still have a hard time telling how hard I’m gripping stuff sometimes.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, typing a few notes onto his laptop, “I could make them more sensitive, add some more pressure points, but I don’t want it to be overwhelming to your remaining nerves.” He glanced over to Y/N, “What do you think?”

Raising her eyebrows incredulously, “I don’t think I’m really qualified to even have an opinion.” She shook her head, snorting a laugh at the ridiculousness of him even asking.

Unhooking the cord from Bucky’s arm, he shrugged, “Technically, you’re more involved in the day to day with his arm than I am. And you’ve got a different perspective than he would. I’m not asking what you think about the mechanics, or tech, just what you’ve observed.” His eyes didn’t leave inside one of the panels, where he was fiddling with something. Bucky flinched, metal fingers jerking, and she heard a soft POP, “Sorry.” Tony muttered and meeting Bucky’s glare with a sheepish smile.

“Well…” Y/N mused, sitting up straighter and peering off to the side as she thought, “I’ve never noticed the issue with him not knowing his strength. He’s always… gentle, with me.” She stumbled over the description and tried to ignore the smirk Tony got.

“That’s cause I’m always paying attention.” Bucky countered, “I’m careful.”

She shrugged, tapping her fingers against the table and tilting her head, “Still, it should count for something.” Focusing back on Tony, she continued, “He’s got amazing dexterity. Better than I thought would be possible.” Tony snorted at the comment and she rolled her eyes at the childish innuendo she hadn’t meant to make, “I mean that, he doesn’t seem to have any trouble. I’ve only really noticed one problem.”

Tony’s eyes lifted to her own at that, and he quirked an eyebrow, “A problem?”

Even Bucky looked over at her, curious. Y/N huffed and realized she was about to walk into yet another innuendo, even if she meant nothing sexual by it. Not to mention she was about to criticize a world-renowned scientist over something she knew little about… but he had asked. So, her voice came out small, “It’s cold.”

Blinking, Tony’s eyebrows drew together and then he laughed, “Cold?” He didn’t seem to get it because he just shook his head and focused back on his work, “Well ya, it’s made of metal.” The smugness in his tone made her bristle.

“You can create points of pressure and connect them to his arm, but you can’t make temperature regulation?” Y/N shot back, and Bucky got a fond, almost proud smile on his lips at her sass. Before Tony replied, she found herself barreling on, “In the winter, his metal arm gets so cold that it makes his shoulder hurt. Not to mention, even at room temperature it’s colder than body temperature.”

Surprise painted across his features, Bucky tilted his head as he stared at her, “How’d you know about the cold?” He interlaced their fingers, disbelief and a bit of confusion twisted with his words.

Y/N shrugged, “Observant, and you roll your shoulder a lot when we’re out in the cold. Rub at it.” Bucky hummed in understanding.

“Well I guess I know what project I’m gonna be working on while we’re here.” Tony chuckled, closing the rest of the panels and sitting his tools aside. When he looked at her again, there was more respect in his tone than before, “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I can build it on top of the pressure points. Tech’s there, I just never thought about it before.”

“You don’t have to worry about it.” Bucky shook his head, flexing his metal fingers and stretching his arm, “We’re supposed to be on vacation. We could talk about it more when we get back.”

Tony shook his head, “What’s a vacation without a project? I can have a schematic done by tomorrow night, and we can start testing it by Monday.” He stood up, closing his laptop and pulling up a hologram of Bucky’s arm, spinning it as he rubbed at his chin. He waved them towards the door, apparently they were dismissed, “Tell Bruce to get his ass down here. Need his beautiful brain on this one.”

Y/N hopped off her stool and snorted, “We’ll let him know.” She swung Bucky’s arm between them, tugging him towards the door. To her boyfriend, she asked, “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

He gave her a smile, “Ya, I think it’d make things more comfortable.” He stooped down, lips brushing her temple, “Especially in bed.” A shiver sparked down her spine at all the implications in that single short sentence.

When they reached the stairs, Tony called after them, “Oh and Barnes! Better be careful to not let her figure out she’s too smart for you!”

Bucky snorted, swiveling back to give his friend a salute, “Trying my best but I don’t think I can hide it very well.”

Tony shot her a smile, “It’d be a shame if you chased this one off. She’s looking like a keeper.”

“And ‘she’s’ right here guys.” Y/N interrupted, making Tony laugh. It wasn’t that she necessarily minded being talked about like she wasn’t there. Especially when he was saying nice things, but it was still just a bit annoying.

“Smart, witty and pretty. You’re gonna eat him alive.” Tony shook his head and focused back on the diagram.

Side by side, they started up the stairs and she snorted again at his comment, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a devious little grin, “Already plan on it.” She stated it quietly, and his surprise faded to something heated. He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her mouth.

Then pulled back just far enough to say, “Threat or a promise?”

Butterflies fluttered through her chest while a fire stoked up in her belly, “Why not both?”

Before he could reply, Tony shouted, “I’m still down here! Sound carries ya know!” Then loud, pounding rock music filled the entire garage, pointedly blocking out their reply.

A blush made her skin flame to life and she hid her face against Bucky’s chest, feeling his laughter more than hearing it. Giggles poured from her lips, even as embarrassment made her wrap her arms around his waist and hide away.

Bucky’s arms encircled her, and he hugged her tight, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Familiar laughter and AC/DC reverberated in her bones, making her heart beat erratically.

If today was any indication of how this vacation was going to go, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.


End file.
